THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

CERF  LIBRARY 

PRESENTED  BY 

REBECCA  CERF  '02 

IN  THE  NAMES  OF 

CHARLOTTE  CERF  '95 

MARCEL  E.  CERF  '97 

BARRY  CERF  '02 


KIRKLAND 
38  SCOTT  ST, 


LAYS 


OF 


THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS 


AND  OTHER  POEMS. 


BY 


WILLIAM    EDMONSTOUNE    AYTOUN,   D.C.L., 

Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  English  Literature  in  the 
University  of  Edinburgh. 


NEW  EDITION. 


NEW  YORK: 
JOHN  W.  LOVELL,  PUBLISHER, 

NOS.    14   AND    l6   ASTOR   PLACE. 


I 


TO 
THE     RIGHT     HONOURABLE 

ARCHIBALD    WILLIAM    MONTGOMERIE> 

$arl  of  %litt0ion  anft  Minion,  $l.C., 

THE  PATRIOTIC  AND  NOBLE  REPRESENTATIVE  OF  AN 
ANCIENT  SCOTTISH   RACE, 

THIS  VOLUME   IS  RESPECTFULLY  INSCRIBED 

BY   THE    AUTHOR. 


M557313 


CONTENTS. 


LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

PAGE 

EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN 7 

THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE 26 

THE  HEART  OF  THE  BRUCE 43 

THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE 57 

THE  WIDOW  OF  GLENCOE 78 

THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS 92 

CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES no 

THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER 146 

MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

BLIND  OLD  MILTON 159 

HERMOTIMUS 166 

CENONE 175 

THE  BURIED  FLOWER 179 

THE  OLD  CAMP 188 

DANUBE  AND  THE  EUXINE 191 

THE  SCHEIK  OF  SINAI 194 

EPITAPH  OF  CONSTANTINE  KANARIS 199 

THE  REFUSAL  OF  CHARON 200 

APPENDIX. 

EXAMINATION  OF  THE  STATEMENTS  IN  MR.  MAC- 
AULAY'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND,  REGARDING. 
JOHN  GRAHAME  OF  CLAVERHOUSE,  VISCOUNT 
OF  DUNDEE...  .  202 


*;m  "'•k?w.»wy-i»«^*?' 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN. 


THE  great  battle  of  Flodden  was  fought  upon  the  gth  of 
September,  1513.  The  defeat  of  the  Scottish  army,  result- 
ing mainly  from  the  fantastic  ideas  of  chivalry  entertained 
by  James  IV.,  and  his  refusal  to  avail  himself  of  the  nat- 
ural advantages  of  his  position,  was  by  far  the  most  dis- 
astrous of  any  recounted  in  the  history  of  the  northern 
wars.  The  whole  strength  of  the  kingdom,  both  Lowland 
and  Highland,  was  assembled,  and  the  contest  was  one  of 
the  sternest  and  most  desperate  upon  record. 

For  several  hours  the  issue  seemed  doubtful.  On  the 
left  the  Scots  obtained  a  decided  advantage  ;  on  the  right 
wing  they  were  broken  and  overthrown  ;  and  at  last  the 
whole  weight  of  the  battle  was  brought  into  the  centre, 
where  King  James  and  the  Earl  of  Surrey  commanded  in 
person.  The  determined  valor  of  James,  imprudent  as 
it  was,  had  the  effect  of  rousing  to  a  pitch  of  desperation 
the  courage  of  the  meanest  soldiers  ;  and  the  ground  be- 
coming soft  and  slippery  from  blood,  they  pulled  off  their 
boots  and  shoes  and  secured  a  firmer  footing  by  fighting 
in  their  hose.  • 

"  It  is  owned,"  says  Abercromby,  "  that  both  parties 
did  wonders,  but  none  on  either  side  performed  more  than 
the  King  himself.  He  was  again  told  that,  by  coming  to 
handy  blows,  he  could  do  no  more  than  another  man, 


8          LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

whereas,  by  keeping  the  post  due  to  his  station,  he  might 
be  worth  many  thousands.  Yet  he  would  not  only  fight 
in  person,  but  also  on  foot ;  for  he  no  sooner  saw  that 
body  of  the  English  give  way  which  was  defeated  by  the 
Earl  of  Huntly,  but  he  alighted  from  his  horse,  and  com- 
manded his  guard  of  noblemen  and  gentlemen  to  do  the 
like  and  follow  him.  He  had  at  first  abundance  of 
success  ;  but  at  length  the  Lord  Thomas  Howard  and  Sir 
Edward  Stanley,  who  had  defeated  their  opposites,  coming 
in  with  the  Lord  Dacre's  horse,  and  surrounding  the  King's 
battalion  on  all  sides,  the  Scots  were  so  distressed  that, 
for  their  last  defence,  they  cast  themselves  into  a  ring ; 
and.  being  resolved  to  die  nobly  with  their  sovereign,  who 
scorned  to  ask  quarter,  were  altogether  cut  off.  So  say 
the  English  writers,  and  I  am  apt  to  believe  that  they  are 
in  the  right." 

The  combat  was  maintained  with  desperate  fury  until 
nightfall.  At  the  close,  according  to  Mr.  Tytler,  "  Surrey 
was  uncertain  of  the  result  of  the  battle :  the  remains  of 
the  enemy's  centre  still  held  the  field ;  Home,  with  his 
Borderers,  still  hovered  on  the  left ;  and  the  commander 
wisely  allowed  neither  pursuit  nor  plunder,  but  drew  off 
his  men,  and  kept  a  strict  watch  during  the  night.  When 
the  morning  broke,  the  Scottish  artillery  were  seen  stand- 
ing deserted  on  the  side  of  the  hill :  their  defenders  had 
disappeared  ;  and  the  earl  ordered  thanks  to  be  given  for 
a  victory  which  was  no  longer  doubtful.  Yet  even  after 
all  this,  a  body  of  the  Scots  appeared  unbroken  upon  a  hill, 
and  were  about  to  charge  the  Lord  Admiral,  when  they  were 
compelled  to  leave  their  position  by  a  discharge  of  the 
English  ordnance. 

"  The  loss  of  the  Scots  in  this  fatal  battle  amounted  to 
about  ten  thousand  men.  Of  these  a  great  proportion 
were  of  high  rank  ;  the  remainder  being  composed  of  the 
gentry,  the  farmers  and  landed  yeomanry,  who  disdained 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN.  9 

to  fly  when  their  sovereign  and  his  nobles  lay  stretched  in 
heaps  around  them."  Besides  King  James,  there  fell  at 
Flodden  the  Archbishop  of  St.  Andrews,  thirteen  earls, 
two  bishops,  two  abbots,  fifteen  lords  and  chiefs  of  clans, 
and  five  peers'  eldest  sons,  besides  La  Motte  the  French 
ambassador,  and  the  secretary  of  the  King.  The  same 
historian  adds — "  The  names  of  the  gentry  who  fell  are  too 
numerous  for  recapitulation,  since  there  were  few  families 
of  note  in  Scotland  which  did  not  lose  one  relative  or 
another,  whilst  some  houses  had  to  weep  the  death  of  all. 
It  is  from  this  cause  that  the  sensations  of  sorrow  and 
national  lamentation  occasioned  by  the  defeat  were  pecu- 
liarly poignant  and  lasting — so  that  to  this  day  few  Scots- 
men can  hear  the  name  of  Flodden  without  a  shudder  of 
gloomy  regret." 

The  loss  to  Edinburgh  on  this  occasion  was  peculiarly 
great.  All  the  magistrates  and  able-bodied  citizens  had 
followed  their  King  to  Flodden,  whence  very  few  of  them 
returned.  The  office  of  Provost  or  chief  magistrate  of  the 
capital  was  at  that  time  an  object  of  ambition,  and  was 
conferred  only  upon  persons  of  high  rank  and  station. 
There  seems  to  be  some  uncertainty  whether  the  holder  of 
this  dignity  at  the  time  of  the  battle  of  Flodden  was 
Sir  Alexander  Lauder,  ancestor  of  the  Fountainhall  family, 
who  was  elected  in  1511,  or  that  great  historical  personage, 
Archibald  Earl  of  Angus,  better  known  as  Archibald  Bell- 
the-Cat,  who  was  chosen  in  1513,  the  year  of  the  battle. 
Both  of  them  were  at  Flodden.  The  name  of  Sir  Alexan- 
der Lauder  appears  upon  the  list  of  the  slain.  Angus  was 
one  of  the  survivors  :  but  his  son  George,  Master  of  Angus, 
fell  fighting  gallantly  by  the  side  of  King  James.  The 
city  records  of  Edinburgh,  which  commence  about  this 
period,  are  not  clear  upon  the  point,  and  I  am  rather  in- 
clined to  think  that  the  Earl  of  Angus  was  elected  to  sup- 
ply the  place  of  Lauder.  But  although  the  actual  magis- 


io         LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

trates  were  absent,  they  had  formally  nominated  deputies 
in  their  stead.  I  find,  on  referring  to  the  city  records, 
that  "  George  of  Tours  "  had  been  appointed  to  officiate  in 
the  absence  of  the  Provost,  and  that  four  other  persons 
were  selected  to  discharge  the  office  of  bailees  until  the 
magistrates  should  return. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  consternation  which  per- 
vaded the  whole  of  Scotland  when  the  intelligence  of  the 
defeat  became  known.  In  Edinburgh  it  was  excessive. 
Mr.  Arnot,  in  the  history  of  that  city,  says — 

"  The  news  of  their  overthrow  in  the  field  of  Flodden 
reached  Edinburgh  on  the  day  after  the  battle,  and  over- 
whelmed the  inhabitants  with  grief  and  confusion.  The 
streets  were  crowded  with  women  seeking  intelligence 
about  their  friends,  clamoring  and  weeping.  Those  who 
officiated  in  absence  of  the  magistrates  proved  themselves 
worthy  of  the  trust.  They  issued  a  proclamation,  order- 
ing all  the  inhabitants  to  assemble  in  military  array  for  de- 
fence of  the  city,  on  the  tolling  of  the  bell ;  and  command- 
ing, '  that  all  women,  and  especially  strangers,  do  repair  to 
their  work,  and  not  be  seen  upon  the  street  clamorand 
and  cry  and ;  and  that  women  of  the  better  sort  do  repair 
to  the  church  and  offer  up  prayers,  at  the  stated  hours, 
for  our  Sovereign  Lord  and  his  army,  and  the  townsmen 
who  are  with  the  army.'  " 

Indeed,  the  Council  records  bear  ample  evidence  of  the 
emergency  of  that  occasion.  Throughout  the  earlier  pages, 
the  word  "  Flowdoun  "  frequently  occurs  on_the  margin, 
in  reference  to  various  hurried  orders  for  arming  and  de- 
fence ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that,  had  the  English 
forces  attempted  to  follow  up  their  victory,  and  attack  the 
Scottish  capital,  the  citizens  would  have  resisted  to  the 
last.  But  it  soon  became  apparent  that  the  loss  sustained 
by  the  English  was  so  severe,  that  Surrey  was  in  no  con- 
dition to  avail  himself  of  the  opportunity ;  and  in  fact, 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN.  n 

shortly  afterwards,  he  was  compelled  to  disband  his 
army. 

The  references  to  the  city  banner  contained  in  the  fol- 
lowing poem,  may  require  a  word  of  explanation.  It  is  a 
standard  still  held  in  great  honor  and  reverence  by  the 
burghers  of  Edinburgh,  having  been  presented  to  them  by 
James  III.,  in  return  for  their  loyal  service  in  1482.  This 
banner,  along  with  that  of  the  Earl  Marischal,  still  conspic- 
uous in  the  Library  of  the  Faculty  of  Advocates,  was  hon- 
orably brought  back  from  Flodden,  and  certainly  never 
could  have  been  displayed  in  a  more  memorable  field. 
Maitland  says,  with  reference  to  this  very  interesting  relic 
of  antiquity — 

"  As  a  perpetual  remembrance  of  the  loyalty  and  bravery 
of  the  Edinburghers  on  the  aforesaid  occasion,  the  King 
granted  them  a  banner  or  standard,  with  a  power  to  dis- 
play the  same  in  defence  of  their  king,  country,  and  their 
own  rights.  This  flag  is  kept  by  the  Convener  of  the 
Trades  ;  at  whose  appearance  therewith,  it  is  said  that  not 
only  the  artificers  of  Edinburgh  are  obliged  to  repair  to  it, 
but  all  the  artisans  or  craftsmen  within  Scotland  are 
bound  to  follow  it,  and  fight  under  the  Convener  of  Edin- 
burgh as  aforesaid." 

No  event  in  Scottish  history  ever  took  a  more  lasting 
hold  of  the  public  mind  than  the  "  woful  fight "  of  Flod- 
den ;  and,  even  now,  the  songs  and  traditions  which  are  cur- 
rent on  the  Border  recall  the  memory  of  a  contest  unsul- 
lied by  disgrace,  though  terminating  in  disaster  and  defeat. 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN, 


NEWS  of  battle  ! — news  of  battle  ! 

Hark !  'tis  ringing  down  the  street : 
And  the  archways  and  the  pavement 

Bear  the  clang  of  hurrying  feet. 
News  of  battle  !  who  hath  brought  it  ? 

News  of  triumph  ?     Who  should  bring 
Tidings  from  our  noble  army, 

Greetings  from  our  gallant  King  ? 
All  last  night  we  watched  the  beacons 

Blazing  on  the  hills  afar, 
Each  one  bearing,  as  it  kindled, 

Message  of  the  opened  war. 
All  night  long  the  northern  streamers 

Shot  across  the  trembling  sky : 
Fearful  lights  that  never  beckon 

Save  when  kings  or  heroes  die. 

ii. 

News  of  battle  !     Who  hath  brought  it  ? 

All  are  thronging  to  the  gate  ; 
"  Warder— warder  !  open  quickly  ; 

Man — is  this  a  time  to  wait?" 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN.  13 

And  the  heavy  gates  are  opened  : 

Then  a  murmur  long  and  loud, 
And  a  cry  of  fear  and  wonder 

Bursts  from  out  the  bending  crowd. 
For  they  see  in  battered  harness 

Only  one  hard-stricken  man  ; 
And  his  weary  steed  is  wounded, 

And  his  cheek  is  pale  and  wan  : 
Spearless  hangs  a  bloody  banner 

In  his  weak  and  drooping  hand — 
God !  can  that  be  Randolph  Murray, 

Captain  of  the  city  band  ? 

in. 
Round  him  crush  the  people,  crying, 

"  Tell  us  all ;  oh,  tell  us  true  ! 
Where  are  they  who  went  to  battle, 

Randolph  Murray,  sworn  to  you  ? 
Where  are  they,  our  brothers— children  ? 

Have  they  met  the  English  foe  ? 
Why  art  thou  alone,  unfollowed  ? 

Is  it  weal  or  is  it  woe  ? " 
Like  a  corpse  the  grisly  warrior 

Looks  from  out  his  helm  of  steel ; 
But  no  word  he  speaks  in  answer — 

Only  with  his  armed  heel 
Chides  his  weary  steed,  and  onward 

Up  the  city  streets  they  ride — 
Fathers,  sisters,  mothers,  children, 

Shrieking,  praying  by  his  side. 
"  By  the  God  that  made  thee,  Randolph ! 

Tell  us  what  mischance  hath  come." 
Then  he  lifts  his  riven  banner, 

And  the  asker's  voice  is  dumb. 


I4         LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

IV. 

The  elders  of  the  city 

Have  met  within  their  hall — 
The  men  whom  good  King  James  had  charged 

To  watch  the  tower  and  wall. 
"  Your  hands  are  weak  with  age,"  he  said, 

"  Your  hearts  are  stout  and  true ; 
So  bide  ye  in  the  Maiden  Town, 

While  others  fight  for  you. 
My  trumpet  from  the  Border-side 

Shall  send  a  blast  so  clear, 
That  all  who  wait  within  the  gate 

That  stirring  sound  may  hear. 
Or,  if  it  be  the  will  of  Heaven 

That  back  I  never  come, 
And  if,  instead  of  Scottish  shouts, 

Ye  hear  the  English  drum, — 
Then  let  the  warning  bells  ring  out, 

Then  gird  you  to  the  fray, 
Then  man  the  walls  like  burghers  stout, 

And  fight  while  fight  you  may. 
'Twere  better  than  in  fiery  flame 

The  roofs  should  thunder  down, 
Than  that  the  foot  of  foreign  foe 

Should  trample  in  the  town  !  " 


v. 


Then  in  came  Randolph  Murray,— 
His  step  was  slow  and  weak, 

And,  as  he  doffed  his  dinted  helm, 
The  tears  ran  down  his  cheek  : 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN.  15 

They  fell  upon  his  corslet 

And  on  his  mailed  hand, 
As  he  gazed  around  him  wistfully, 

Leaning  sorely  on  his  brand. 
And  none  who  then  beheld  him 

But  straight  were  smote  with  fear, 
For  a  bolder  and  a  sterner  man 

Had  never  couched  a  spear. 
They  knew  so  sad  a  messenger 

Some  ghastly  news  must  bring  ; 
And  all  of  them  were  fathers, 

And  their  sons  were  with  the  King. 


VI. 


And  up  then  rose  the  Provost — 

A  brave  old  man  was  he, 
Of  ancient  name,  and  knightly  fame, 

And  chivalrous  degree. 
He  ruled  our  city  like  a  Lord 

.  Who  brooked  no  equal  here, 
And  ever  for  the  townsman's  rights 

Stood  up  'gainst  prince  and  peer. 
And  he  had  seen  the  Scottish  host 

March  from  the  Borough-muir, 
With  music-storm  and  clamorous  shout, 
And  all  the  din  that  thunders  out 

When  youth's  of  victory  sure. 
But  yet  a  dearer  thought  had  he, — 

For  with  a  father's  pride, 
He  saw  his  last  remaining  son 

Go  forth  by  Randolph'    side, 


16          LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

With  casque  on  head  and  spur  on  heel, 

All  keen  to  do  and  dare  ; 
And  proudly  did  that  gallant  boy 

Dunedin's  banner  bear. 
Oh  !  woful  now  was  the  old  man's  look, 

And  he  spake  right  heavily— 
"  Now,  Randolph,  tell  thy  tidings, 

However  sharp  they  be  ! 
Woe  is  written  on  thy  visage, 

Death  is  looking  from  thy  face, 
Speak  !  though  it  be  of  overthrow — 

It  cannot  be  disgrace  !  " 


VII. 

Right  bitter  was  the  agony 

That  wrung  that  soldier  proud  : 
Thrice  did  he  strive  to  answer, 

And  thrice  he  groaned  aloud. 
Then  he  gave  the  riven  banner 

To  the  old  man's  shaking  hand, 
Saying — "  That  is  all  I  bring  ye 

From  the  bravest  of  the  land. 
Ay  !  ye  may  look  upon  it — 

It  was  guarded  well  and  long, 
By  your  brothers  and  your  children, 

By  the  valiant  and  the  strong. 
One  by  one  they  fell  around  it, 

As  the  archers  laid  them  low, 
Grimly  dying,  still  unconquered, 

With  their  faces  to  the  foe. 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN.  17 

Ay !  ye  may  well  look  upon  it — 

There  is  more  than  honor  there, 
Else,  be  sure,  I  had  not  brought  it 

From  the  field  of  dark  despair. 
Never  yet  was  royal  banner 

Steeped  in  such  a  costly  dye  ; 
It  hath  lain  upon  a  oosom 

Where  no  other  shroud  shall  lie. 
Sirs  !  I  charge  you,  keep  it  holy  ; 

Keep  it  as  a  sacred  thing, 
For  the  stain  ye  see  upon  it 

Was  the  life-blood  of  your  King  !  " 

VIII. 

Woe,  and  woe,  and  lamentation  ! 

What  a  piteous  cry  was  there  ! 
Widows,  maidens,  mothers,  children, 

Shrieking,  sobbing  in  despair  ! 
Through  the  streets  the  death-word  rushes, 

Spreading  terror,  sweeping  on — 
"  Jesu  Christ !  our  King  has  fallen — 

O  Great  God,  King  James  is  gone ! 
Holy  Mother  Mary,  shield  us, 

Thou  who  erst  didst  lose  thy  Son ! 
O  the  blackest  day  for  Scotland 

That  she  ever  knew  before  ! 
O  our  King — the  good,  the  noble, 

Shall  we  see  him  never  more  ? 
Woe  to  us,  and  woe  to  Scotland ! 

O  our  sons,  our  sons  and  men  ! 
Surely  some  have  'scaped  the  Southron, 

Surely  some  will  come  again  ! 


LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

Till  the  oak  that  fell  last  winter 

Shall  uprear  its  shattered  stem — 
Wives  and  mothers  of  Dunedin — 
Ye  may  look  in  vain  for  them  ! 


IX. 


But  within  the  Council  Chamber 

All  was  silent  as  the  grave, 
Whilst  the  tempest  of  their  sorrow 

Shook  the  bosoms  of  the  brave. 
Well  indeed  might  they  be  shaken 

With  the  weight  of  such  a  blow : 
He  was  gone — their  prince,  their  idol, 

Whom  they  loved  and  worshipped  so  ! 
Like  a  knell  of  death  and  judgment 

Rung  from  heaven  by  angel  hand, 
Fell  the  words  of  desolation 

On  the  elders  of  the  land. 
Hoary  heads  were  bowed  and  trembling, 

Withered  hands  were  clasped  and  wrung ; 
God  had  left  the  old  and  feeble, 

He  had  ta'en  away  the  young. 


x. 


Then  the  Provost  he  uprose, 

And  his  lip  was  ashen  white ; 
But  a  flush  was  on  his  brow, 

And  his  eye  was  full  of  light. 
"  Thou  hast  spoken,  Randolph  Murray, 

Like  a  soldier  stout  and  true ; 
Thou  hast  done  a  deed  of  daring 

Had  been  perilled  but  by  few. 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN.  10 

For  them  hast  not  shamed  to  face  us, 

Nor  to  speak  thy  ghastly  tale, 
Standing — thou  a  knight  and  captain — 

Here,  alive  within  thy  mail ! 
Now,  as  my  God  shall  judge  me, 

I  hold  it  braver  done, 
Than  hadst  thou  tarried  in  thy  place, 

And  died  above  my  son  ! 
Thou  need'st  not  tell  it :  he  is  dead. 

God  help  us  all  this  day ! 
But  speak — how  fought  the  citizens 

Within  the  furious  fray  ? 
For  by  the  might  of  Mary ! 

'Twere  something  still  to  tell 
That  no  Scottish  foot  went  backward 

When  the  Royal  Lion  fell !  " 

XI. 

"  No  one  failed  him  !     He  is  keeping 

Royal  state  and  semblance  still ; 
Knight  and  noble  lie  around  him, 

Cold  on  Flodden's  fatal  hill. 
Of  the  brave  and  gallant-hearted, 

Whom  you  sent  with  prayers  away, 
Not  a  single  man  departed 

From  his  monarch  yesterday. 
Had  you  seen  them,  O  my  masters  ! 

When  the  night  began  to  fall, 
And  the  English  spearmen  gathered 

Round  a  grim  and  ghastly  wall 
As  the  wolves  in  winter  circle 

Round  the  leaguer  on  the  heath, 
So  the  greedy  foe  glared  upward, 

Panting  still  for  blood  and  death. 


20        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

But  a  rampart  rose  before  them, 

Which  the  boldest  dared  not  scale  ; 
Every  stone  a  Scottish  body, 

Every  step  a  corpse  in  mail ! 
And  behind  it  lay  our  monarch, 

Clenching  still  his  shivered  sword ; 
By  his  side  Montrose  and  Athole, 

At  his  feet  a  Southron  lord. 
All  so  thick  they  lay  together, 

When  the  stars  lit  up  the  sky, 
That  I  knew  not  who  were  stricken, 

Or  who  yet  remained  to  die. 
Few  there  were  when  Surrey  halted, 

And  his  wearied  host  withdrew; 
None  but  dying  men  around  me, 

When  the  English  trumpet  blew, 
Then  I  stooped,  and  took  the  banner, 

As  you  see  it,  from  his  breast, 
And  I  closed  our  hero's  eyelids, 

And  I  left  him  to  his  rest. 
In  the  mountains  growled  the  thunder, 

As  I  leaped  the  woful  wall, 
And  the  heavy  clouds  were  settling 

Over  Flodden,  like  a  pall." 

XII. 

So  he  ended.     And  the  others 

Cared  not  any  answer  then  ; 
Sitting  silent,  dumb  with  sorrow, 

Sitting  anguish-struck,  like  men 
Who  have  seen  the  roaring  torrent 

Sweep  their  happy  homes  away, 
And  yet  linger  by  the  margin, 

Staring  wildly  on  the  spray. 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN.  21 

But,  without,  the  maddening  tumult 

Waxes  ever  more  and  more, 
And  the  crowd  of  wailing  women 

Gather  round  the  Council  door. 
Every  dusky  spire  is  ringing 

With  a  dull  and  hollow  knell, 
And  the  Miserere's  singing 

To  the  tolling  of  the  bell. 
Through  the  streets  the  burghers  hurry, 

Spreading  terror  as  they  go  ; 
And  the  rampart's  thronged  with  watchers 

For  the  coming  of  the  foe. 
From  each  mountain-top  a  pillar 

Streams  into  the  torpid  air, 
Bearing  token  from  the  Border 

That  the  English  host  is  there. 
All  without  is  flight  and  terror, 

All  within  is  woe  and  fear — 
God  protect  thee,  Maiden  City, 

For  thy  latest  hour  is  near  ! 

XIII. 

No  !  not  yet,  thou  high  Dunedin ! 

Shall  thou  totter  to  thy  fall ; 
Though  thy  bravest  and  thy  strongest 

Are  not  here  to  man  the  wall. 
No,  not  yet !  the  ancient  spirit 

Of  our  fathers  hath  not  gone  ; 
Take  it  to  thee  as  a  buckler 

Better  far  than  steel  or  stone. 
Oh,  remember  those  who  perished 

For  thy  birthright  at  the  time 
When  to  be  a  Scot  was  treason, 

And  to  side  with  Wallace  crime  ! 


22         LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

Have  they  not  a  voice  among  us, 

Whilst  their  hallowed  dust  is  here  ? 
Hear  ye  not  a  summons  sounding 

From  each  buried  warrior's  bier  ? 
Up  ! — they  say — and  keep  the  freedom 

Which  we  won  you  long  ago  : 
Up  !  and  keep  our  graves  unsullied 

From  the  insults  of  the  foe  ! 
Up  !  and  if  ye  cannot  save  them, 

Come  to  us  in  blood  and  fire  : 
Midst  the  crash  of  falling  turrets 

Let  the  last  of  Scots  expire ! 

XIV. 

Still  the  bells  are  tolling  fiercely, 

And  the  cry  comes  louder  in  ; 
Mothers  wailing  for  their  children, 

Sisters  for  their  slaughtered  kin. 
All  is  terror  and  disorder , 

Till  the  Provost  rises  up, 
Calm,  as  though  he  had  not  tasted 

Of  the  fell  and  bitter  cup. 
All  so  stately  from  his  sorrow, 

Rose  the  old  undaunted  chief, 
That  you  had  not  deemed,  to  see  him, 

His  was  more  than  common  grief. 
"  Rouse  ye,  Sirs  ! "  he  said  ;  "  we  may  not 

Longer  mourn  for  what  is  done  ; 
If  our  King  be  taken  from  us, 

We  are  left  to  guard  his  son. 
We  have  sworn  to  keep  the  city 

From  the  foe,  whate'er  they  be, 
And  the  oath  that  we  have  taken 

Never  shall  be  broke  by  me. 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN.  23 

Death  is  nearer  to  us,  brethren, 

Than  it  seemed  to  those  who  died, 
Fighting  yesterday  at  Flodden, 

By  their  lord  and  master's  side. 
Let  us  meet  it  then  in  patience, 

Not  in  terror  or  in  fear  ; 
Though  our  hearts  are  bleeding  yonder, 

Let  our  souls  be  steadfast  here. 
Up,  and  rouse  ye  !    Time  is  fleeting, 

And  we  yet  have  much  to  do ; 
Up  !  and  haste  ye  through  the  city, 

Stir  the  burghers  stout  and  true, 
Gather  all  our  scattered  people, 

Fling  the  banner  out  once  more, — 
Randolph  Murray !  do  thou  bear  it, 

As  it  erst  was  borne  before  : 
Never  Scottish  heart  will  leave  it, 

When  they  see  their  monarch's  gore. 

xv. 

"  Let  them  cease  that  dismal  knelling; 

It  is  time  enough  to  ring, 
When  the  fortress-strength  of  Scotland 

Stoops  to  ruin  like  its  King. 
Let  the  bells  be  kept  for  warning, 

Not  for  terrors  or  alarm  ; 
When  the  next  is  heard  to  thunder, 

Let  each  man  and  stripling  arm. 
Bid  the  women  leave  their  wailing- 

Do  they  think  that  wof  ul  strain, 
From  the  bloody  heaps  of  Flodden, 

Can  redeem  their  dearest  slain  ? 


24        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

Bid  them  cease, — or  rather  hasten 

To  the  churches  every  one  ; 
There  to  pray  to  Mary  Mother, 

And  to  her  anointed  Son, 
That  the  thunderbolt  above  us 

May  not  fall  in  ruin  yet ; 
That  in  fire  and  blood  and  rapine 

Scotland's  glory  may  not  set. 
Let  them  pray, — for  never  women 

Stood  in  need  of  such  a  prayer  ! — 
England's  yeoman  shall  not  find  them 

Clinging  to  the  altars  there. 
No  !  if  we  are  doomed  to  perish, 

Man  and  maiden,  let  us  fall, 
And  a  common  gulf  of  ruin 

Open  wide  to  whelm  us  all ! 
Never  shall  the  ruthless  spoiler 

Lay  his  hot  insulting  hand 
On  the  sisters  of  our  heroes, . 

Whilst  we  bear  a  torch  or  brand ! 
Up !  and  rouse  ye,  then,  my  brothers, — 

But  when  next  ye  hear  the  bell 
Sounding  forth  the  sullen  summons 

That  may  be  our  funeral  knell, 
Once  more  let  us  meet  together, 

Once  more  see  each  other's  face ; 
Then,  like  men  that  need  not  tremble, 

Go  to  our  appointed  place. 
God,  our  Father,  will  not  fail  us, 

In  that  last  tremendous  hour, — 
If  all  other  bulwarks  crumble, 

HE  will  be  our  strength  and  tower : 


EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLO D DEN.  25 

Though  the  ramparts  rock  beneath  us, 

And  the  walls  go  crashing  down, 
Though  the  roar  of  conflagration 

Bellow  o'er  the  sinking  town  ; 
There  is  yet  one  place  of  shelter, 

Where  the  foemen  cannot  come, 
Where  the  summons  never  sounded 

Of  the  trumpet  or  the  drum. 
There  again  we'll  meet  our  children, 

Who,  on  Flodden's  trampled  sod, 
For  their  King  and  for  their  country 

Rendered  up  their  souls  to  God. 
There  shall  we  find  rest  and  refuge, 

With  our  dear  departed  brave 
And  the  ashes  of  the  city 

Be  our  universal  grave  ! " 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE. 


THE  most  poetical  chronicler  would  find  it  impossible  to 
render  the  incidents  of  Montrose's  brilliant  career  more 
picturesque  thajT  the  reality.  Among  the  devoted  cham- 
pions who,  during  the  wildest  and  most  stormy  period  of 
our  history,  maintained  the  cause  of  Church  and  King, 
"  the  Great  Marquis  "  undoubtedly  is  entitled  to  the  fore- 
most place.  Even  party  malevolence,  by  no  means  extinct 
at  the  present  day,  has  been  unable  to  detract  from  the 
eulogy  pronounced  upon  him  by  the  famous  Cardinal  de 
Retz,  the  friend  of  Conde  and  Turenne,  when  he  thus 
summed  up  his  character  : — "  Montrose,  a  Scottish  noble- 
man, head  of  the  house  of  Grahame — the  only  man  in  the 
world  that  has  ever  realized  to  me  the  ideas  of  certain 
heroes,  whom  we  now  discover  nowhere  but  in  the  lives 
of  Plutarch — has  sustained  in  his  own  country  the  cause 
of  the  King  his  master,  with  a  greatness  of  soul  that  has 
not  found  its  equal  in  our  age." 

But  the  success  of  the  victorious  leader  and  patriot  is 
almost  thrown  into  the  shade  by  the  noble  magnanimity 
and  Christian  heroism  of  the  man  in  the  hour  of  defeat 
and  death.  Without  wishing,  in  any  degree,  to  revive  a 
controversy  long  maintained  by  writers  of  opposite  political 
and  polemical  opinions,  it  may  fairly  be  stated  that  Scot- 
tish history  does  not  present  us  with  a  tragedy  of  parallel 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE.  27 

interest.  That  the  execution  of  Montrose  was  the  natural, 
nay,  the  inevitable,  consequence  of  his  capture,  may  be 
freely  admitted  even  by  the  fiercest  partisan  of  the  cause 
for  which  he  staked  his  life.  In  those  times,  neither 
party  was  disposed  to  lenity  ;  and  Montrose  was  far  too 
conspicuous  a  character,  and  too  dangerous  a  man,  to  be 
forgiven.  But  the  ignominious  and  savage  treatment 
which  he  received  at  the  hands  of  those  whose  station  and 
descent  should  at  least  have  taught  them  to  respect  mis- 
fortune, has  left  an  indelible  stain  upon  the  memory  of  the 
Covenanting  chiefs,  and  more  especially  upon  that  of 
Argyle. 

The  perfect  serenity  of  the  man  in  the  hour  of  trial 
and  death  ;  the  courage  and  magnanimity  which  he  dis- 
played to  the  last,  have  been  dwelt  upon  with  admiration 
by  writers  of  every  class.  He  heard  his  sentence  deliv- 
ered withoufany  apparent  emotion,  and  afterwards  told  the 
magistrates  who  waited  upon  him  in  prison,  "  that  he 
was  much  indebted  to  the  Parliament  for  the  great  honor 
they  had  decreed  him  ; "  adding,  "  that  he  was  prouder 
to  have  his  head  placed  upon  the  top  of  the  prison,  than 
if  they  had  decreed  a  golden  statue  to  be  erected  to  him 
in  the  market-place,  or  that  his  picture  should  be  hung  in 
the  King's  bed-chamber."  He  said  "  he  thanked  them 
for  their  care  to  preserve  the  remembrance  of  his  loyalty, 
by  transmitting  such  monuments  to  the  different  parts  of 
the  kingdom  ;  and  only  wished  that  he  had  flesh  enough  to 
have  sent  a  piece  to  every  city  in  Christendom,  as  a  token 
of  his  unshaken  love  and  fidelity  to  his  king  and  country." 
On  the  night  before  his  execution,  he  inscribed  the  follow- 
ing lines  with  a  diamond  on  the  window  of  his  jail :— ^ 

"  Let  them  bestow  on  every  airth  a  limb, 
Then  open  all  my  veins,  that  I  may  swim 
To  thee,  my  Maker  !  in  that  crimson  lake  ; 
Then  place  my  parboiled  head  upon  a  stake — 


28        LA  FS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

Scatter  my  ashes — strew  them  in  the  air  ; 

Lord  !  since  them  knowest  where  all  these  atoms  are, 

I'm  hopeful  thou'lt  recover  once  my  dust, 

And  confident  thou'lt  raise  me  with  the  just." 

After  the  Restoration  the  dust  was  recovered,  the 
scattered  remnants  collected,  and  the  bones  of  the  hero 
conveyed  to  their  final  resting  place  by  a  numerous  assem- 
blage of  gentlemen  of  his  family  and  name. 

There  is  no  ingredient  of  fiction  in  the  historical  inci- 
dents recorded  in  the  following  ballad.  The  indignities 
that  were  heaped  upon  Montrose  during  his  procession 
through  Edinburgh,  his  appearance  before  the  Estates, 
and  his  last  passage  to  the  scaffold,  as  well  as  his  undaunt- 
ed bearing,  have  all  been  spoken  to  by  eye-witnesses  of 
the  scene.  A  graphic  and  vivid  sketch  of  the  whole  will 
be  found  in  Mr.  Mark  Napier's  volume,  "  The  Life  and 
Times  of  Montrose  " — a  work  as  chivalrous  in  its  tone  as 
the  Chronicles  of  Froissart,  and  abounding  in  original  and 
most  interesting  materials ;  but,  in  order  to  satisfy  all 
scruple,  the  authorities  for  each  fact  are  given  in  the  shape 
of  notes.  The  ballad  may  be  considered  as  a  narrative  of 
the  transactions  related  by  an  aged  Highlander,  who  had 
followed  Montrose  throughout  his  campaigns,  to  his  grand- 
son, shortly  before  the  battle  of  Killiecrankie. 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE, 


i. 
COME  hither,  Evan  Cameron 

Come,  stand  beside  my  knee — 
I  hear  the  river  roaring  down 

Towards  the  wintry  sea. 
There's  shouting  on  the  mountain-side, 

There's  war  within  the  blast — 
Old  faces  look  upon  me, 

Old  forms  go  trooping  past ; 
I  hear  the  pibroch  wailing 

Amidst  the  din  "of  fight, 
And  my  dim  spirit  wakes  again 

Upon  the  verge  of  night. 

ii. 
'Twas  I  that  led  the  Highland  host 

Through  wild  Lochaber's  snows, 
What  time  the  plaided  clans  came  down 

To  battle  with  Montrose. 
I've  told  thee  how  the  Southrons  fell 

Beneath  the  broad  claymore, 
And  how  we  smote  the  Campbell  clan, 

By  Inverlochy's  shore. 


LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

I've  told  thee  how  we  swept  Dundee, 
And  tamed  the  Lindsays'  pride  ; 

But  never  have  I  told  thee  yet 
How  the  great  Marquis  died. 

in. 

A  traitor  sold  him  to  his  foes  ; 
O  deed  of  deathless  shame  ! 
I  charge  thee,  boy,  if  e'er  thou  meet 

With  one  of  Assynt's  name — 
Be  it  upon  the  mountain's  side, 

Or  yet  within  the  glen, 
Stand  he  in  martial  gear  alone, 

Or  backed  by  armed  men — 
Face  him  as  thou  wouldst  face  the  man 

Who  wronged  thy  sire's  renown  ; 
Remember  of  what  blood  thou  art, 

And  strike  the  caitiff  down  ! 

IV. 

They  brought  him  to  the  Watergate, 

Hard  bound  with  hempen  span, 
As  though  they  held  a  lion  there, 

And  not  a  fenceless  man. 
They  set  him  high  upon  a  cart — 

The  hangman  rode  below — 
They  drew  his  hands  behind  his  back, 

And  bared  his  noble  brow. 
Then,  as  a  hound  is  slipped  from  leash, 

They  cheered  the  common  throng, 
And  blew  the  note  with  yell  and  shout. 

And  bade  him  pass  along. 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE.  31 

V. 
It  would  have  made  a  brave  man's  heart 

Grow  sad  and  sick  that  day, 
To  watch  the  keen,  malignant  eyes 

Bent  down  on  that  array. 
There  stood  the  Whig  west-country  lords, 

In  balcony  and  bow ; 
There  sat  the  gaunt  and  withered  dames, 

And  their  daughters  all  a-row. 
And  every  open  window 

Was  full  as  full  might  be 
With  black-robed  Covenanting  carles, 

That  goodly  sport  to  see ! 

VI. 

But  when  he  came,  though  pale  and  wan, 

He  looked  so  great  and  high, 
So  noble  was  his  manly  front, 

So  calm  his  steadfast  eye  ; — 
The  rabble  rout  forebore  to  shout 

And  each  man  held  his  breath, 
For  well  they  knew  the  hero's  soul 

Was  face  to  face  with  death. 
And  then  a  mournful  shudder 

Through  all  the  people  crept, 
And  some  that  came  to  scoff  at  him 

Now  turned  aside  and  wept. 

VII. 

But  onwards — always  onwards, 

In  silence  and  in  gloom, 
The  dreary  pageant  labored, 

Till  it  reached  the  house  of  doom. 


32        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

Then  first  a  woman's  voice  was  heard 

In  jeer  and  laughter  loud, 
And  an  angry  cry  and  a  hiss  arose 

From  the  heart  of  the  tossing  crowd  : 
Then  as  the  Graeme  looked  upwards, 

He  saw  the  ugly  smile 
Of  him  who  sold  his  king  for  gold — 

The  master-fiend  Argyle  ! 

VIII. 

The  Marquis  gazed  a  moment, 

And  nothing  did  he  say, 
But  the  cheek  of  Argyle  grew  ghastly  pale 

And  he  turned  his  eyes  away. 
The  painted  harlot  by  his  side, 

She  shook  through  every  limb, 
For  a  roar  like  thunder  swept  the  street, 

And  hands  were  clenched  at  him  ; 
And  a  Saxon  soldier  cried  aloud, 

"  Back,  coward,  from  thy  place  ! 
For  seven  long  years  thou  hast  not  dared 

To  look  him  in  the  face." 

IX. 

Had  I  been  there  with  sword  in  hand, 

And  fifty  Camerons  by, 
That  day  through  high  Dunedin's  streets 

Had  pealed  the  slogan-cry. 
Not  all  their  troops  of  trampling  horse, 

Nor  might  of  mailed  men — 
Not  all  the  rebels  in  the  south 

Had  borne  us  backwards  then! 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE.  33 

Once  more  his  foot  on  highland  heath 

Had  trod  as  free  as  air, 
Or  I,  and  all  who  bore  my  name, 

Been  laid  around  him  there  ! 

x. 

It  might  not  be.     They  placed  him  next 

Within  the  solemn  hall, 
Where  once  the  Scottish  kings  were  throned 

Amidst  their  nobles  all. 
But  there  was  dust  of  vulgar  feet 

On  that  polluted  floor, 
And  perjured  traitors  filled  the  place 

Where  good  men  sate  before. 
With  savage  glee  came  Warristoun, 

To  read  the  murderous  doom  ; 
And  then  uprose  the  great  Montrose 

In  the  middle  of  the  room. 

XI. 

"  Now,  by  my  faith  as  belted  knight, 

And  by  the  name  I  bear, 
And  by  the  bright  Saint  Andrew's  cross 

That  waves  above  us  there — 
Yea,  by  a  greater,  mightier  oath — 

And  oh,  that  such  should  be  ! — 
By  that  dark  stream  of  royal  blood 

That  lies  'twixt  you  and  me — 
I  have  not  sought  in  battle-field 

A  wreath  of  such  renown, 
Nor  dared  I  hope  on  my  dying  day 

To  win  the  martyr's  crown  ! 


34        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

XII. 
"  There  is  a  chamber  far  away 

Where  sleep  the  good  and  brave, 
But  a  better  place  ye  have  named  for  me 

Than  by  my  father's  grave. 
For  truth  and  right,  'gainst  treason's  might, 

This  hand  hath  always  striven, 
And  ye  raise  it  up  for  a  witness  still 

In  the  eye  of  earth  and  heaven. 
Then  nail  my  head  on  yonder  tower — 

Give  every  town  a  limb — 
And  God  who  made  shall  gather  them  • 

I  go  from  you  to  Him ! " 

XIII. 

The  morning  dawned  full  darkly, 

The  rain  came  flashing  down, 
And  the  jagged  streak  of  the  levin-bolt 

Lit  up  the  gloomy  town  : 
The  thunder  crashed  across  the  heaven, 

The  fatal  hour  was  come  ; 
Yet  aye  broke  in  with  muffled  beat, 

The  'larm  of  the  drum. 
There  was  madness  on  the  earth  below 

And  anger  in  the  sky, 
And  young  and  old,  and  rich  and  poor 

Came  forth  to  see  him  die. 

XIV. 

Ah,  God  !  that  ghastly  gibbet ! 

How  dismal  'tis  to  see 
The  great  tall  spectral  skeleton, 

The  ladder  and  the  tree  ! 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE.  35 

Hark  !  hark  !  it  is  the  clash  of  arms — 

The  bells  begin  to  toll — 
"  He  is  coming  !  he  is  coming. 

God's  mercy  on  his  soul ! " 
One  last  long  peal  of  thunder — 

The  clouds  are  cleared  away, 
And  the  glorious  sun  once  more  looks  down 

Amidst  the  dazzling  day. 

xv. 

"  He  is  coming !  he  is  coming ! " 

Like  a  bridegroom  from  his  room, 
Came  the  hero  from  his  prison 

To  the  scaffold  and  the  doom. 
There  was  glory  on  his  forehead, 

There  was  lustre  in  his  eye, 
And  he  never  walked  to  battle 

More  proudly  than  to  die ; 
There  was  color  in  his  visage 

Though  the  cheeks  of  all  were  wan, 
And  they  marvelled  as  they  saw  him  pass, 

That  great  and  goodly  man  ! 

XVI. 

He  mounted  up  the  scaffold, 

And  he  turned  him  to  the  crowd ; 
But  they  dared  not  trust  the  people, 

So  he  might  not  speak  aloud. 
But  he  looked  upon  the  heavens. 

And  they  were  clear  and  blue, 
And  in  the  liquid  ether 

The  eye  of  God  shone  through. 


36        LAVS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

Yet  a  black  and  murky  battlement 

Lay  resting  on  the  hill, 
As  though  the  thunder  slept  within — 

All  else  was  calm  and  still. 

XVII. 

The  grim  Geneva  ministers 

With  anxious  scowl  drew  near, 
As  you  have  seen  the  ravens  flock 

Around  the  dying  deer. 
He  would  not  deign  them  word  nor  sign, 

But  alone  he  bent  the  knee  ; 
And  veiled  his  face  for  Christ's  dear  grace 

Beneath  the  gallows-tree. 
Then  radiant  and  serene  he  rose, 

And  cast  his  cloak  away  : 
For  he  had  ta'en  his  latest  look 

Of  earth  and  sun  and  day. 

XVIII. 

A  beam  of  light  fell  o'er  him, 

Like  a  glory  round  the  shriven  , 
And  he  climed  the  lofty  ladder 

As  it  were  the  path  to  heaven. 
Then  came  a  flash  from  out  the  cloud, 

And  a  stunning  thunder-roll ; 
And  no  man  dared  to  look  aloft, 

For  fear  was  on  every  soul. 
There  was  another  heavy  sound, 

A  hush  and  then  a  groan  ; 
And  darkness  swept  across  the  sky — 

The  work  of  death  was  done  ! 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE.  37 


NOTES  TO  THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE. 


"  A  traitor  sold  him  to  his  foes. " — P.    30. 

"•THE  contemporary  historian  of  the  Earls  of  Sutherland 
records,  that  (after  the  defeat  of  Invercaron)  Montrose 
and  Kinnoul  '  wandered  up  the  river  Kyle  the  whole  en- 
suing night,  and  the  next  day,  and  the  third  day  also,  with- 
out any  food  or  sustenance,  and  at  last  came  within  the 
country  of  Assynt.  The  Earl  of  Kinnoul,  being  faint  for 
lack  of  mfcat,  and  not  able  to  travel  any  farther,  was  left 
there  among  the  mountains,  where  it  was  supposed  he 
perished.  Montrose  had  almost  famished,  but  that  he 
fortuned  in  his  misery  to  light  upon  a  small  cottage  in  that 
wilderness,  where  he  was  supplied  with  some  milk  and 
bread.'  Not  even  the  iron  frame  of  Montrose  could 
endure  a  prolonged  existence  under  such  circumstances. 
He  gave  himself  up  to  Macleod  of  Assynt,  a  former 
adherent,  from  whom  he  had  reason  to  expect  assist- 
ance in  consideration  of  that  circumstance,  and,  indeed, 
from  the  dictates  of  honorable  feeling  and  common  human- 
ity. As  the  Argyle  faction  had  sold  the  King,  so  this 
Highlander  rendered  his  own  name  infamous  by  selling 
the  hero  to  the  Covenanters,  for  which  '  duty  to  the  public ' 
he  was  rewarded  with  four  hundred  bolls  of  meal." — 
NAPIER'S  Life  of  Montrose. 

"  They  brought  him  to  the  Watergate" — P.    30. 

"  Friday,  \^th  May. — Act  ordaining  James  Grahame  to  be 
brought  from  the  Watergate  on  a  cart,  bareheaded,  the  hang- 
man in  his  livery,  covered,  riding  on  the  horse  that  draws  the 
cart — the  prisoner  to  be  bound  to  the  cart  with  a  rope — to 
the  Tolbooth  of  Edinburgh,  and  from  thence  to  be  brought 


38       LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

to  the  Parliament  House,  and  there,  in  the  place  of  delin- 
quents, on  his  knees,  to  receive  his  sentence — viz.,  to  be 
hanged  on  a  gibbet  at  the  Cross  of  Edinburgh,  with  his  book 
and  declaration  tied  on  a  rope  about  his  neck,  and  there 
to  hang  for  the  space  of  three  hours  until  he  be  dead  ; 
and  thereafter  to  be  cut  down  by  the  hangman,  his  head, 
hands,  and  legs  to  be  cut  off,  and  distributed  as  follows  : — 
viz.,  his  head  to  be  affixed  on  an  iron  pin,  and  set  on  the 
pinacle  of  the  west  gavel  of  the  new  prison  of  Edinburgh ; 
one  hand  to  be  set  on  the  port  of  Perth,  the  other  on  the 
port  of  Stirling;  one  leg  and  foot  on  the  port  of  Aberdeen, 
the  other  on  the  port  of  Glasgow.  If  at  his  death  penitent, 
and  relaxed  from  excommunication,  then  the  trunk  of  his 
body  to  be  interred  by  pioneers  in  the  Greyfriars  ;  other- 
wise, to  be  interred  in  the  Boroughmuir,  by  the  hangman's 
men,  under  the  gallows." — BALFOUR'S  Notes  of  Parliament. 
It  is  needless  to  remark  that  the  inhuman  sentence  was 
executed  to  the  letter.  In  order  that  the  exposure  might 
be  more  complete,  the  cart  was  constructed  with  a  high 
chair  in  the  centre,  having  holes  behind,  through  which  the 
ropes  that  fastened  him  were  drawn.  The  author  of  the 
Wigton  Papers,  recently  published  by  the  Maitland  Club, 
says,  "  The  reason  of  his  being  tied  to  the  cart  was  in  hope 
that  the  people  would  have  stoned  him,  and  that  he  might 
not  be  able  by  his  hands  to  save  his  face."  His  hat  was  then 
pulled  off  by  the  hangman,  and  the  procession  commenced. 

"  But  when  he  came,  though  pale  and  wan, 
He  looked  so  great  and  high.'" — P.    31. 

"  In  all  the  way,  there  appeared  in  him  such  majesty, 
courage,  modesty — and  even  somewhat  more  than  natur- 
al— that  those  common  women  who  had  lost  their  husbands 
and  children  in  his  wars,  and  who  were  hired  to  stone  him, 
were  upon  the  sight  of  him  so  astonished  and  moved,  that 
their  intended  curses  turned  into  tears  and  prayers  ;  so 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE.  39 

that  next  day  all  the  ministers  preached  against  them  for  not 
stoning  and  reviling  him." —  Wigton  Papers. 

"  Then  first  a  woman's  voice  was  heard 
In  jeer  and  laughter  loud" — P.    32* 

"  It  is  remarkable  that,  of  the  many  thousand  behold- 
ers, the  Lady  Jean  Gordon,  Countess  of  Haddington,  did 
(alone)  publicly  insult  and  laugh  at  him  ;  which  being  per- 
ceived by  a  gentleman  in  the  street,  he  cried  up  to  her, 
that  it  became  her  better  to  sit  upon  the  cart  for  her  adul- 
teries."—  Wigton  Papers.  This  infamous  woman  was  the 
third  daughter  of  Huntley,  and  the  niece  of  Argyle.  It  will 
hardly  be  credited  that  she  was  the  sister  of  that  gallant 
Lord  Gordon,  who  fell  fighting  by  the  side  of  Montrose, 
only  five  years  before,  at  the  battle  of  Aldford  ! 

"  For  seven  long  years  thou  hast  not  dared 
To  look  him  in  the  face." — P.    32. 

"  The  Lord  Lorn  and  his  new  lady  were  also  sitting  on 
a  balcony,  joyful  spectators  ;  and  the  cart  being  stopped 
when  it  came  before  the  lodging  where  the  Chancellor, 
Argyle,  and  Warristoun  sat — that  they  might  have  time  to 
insult — he,  suspecting  the  business,  turned  his  face  towards 
them,  whereupon  they  presently  crept  in  at  the  windows  ; 
which  being  perceived  by  an  Englishman,  he  cried  up,  it 
was  no  wonder  they  started  aside  at  his  look,  for  they 
durst  not  look  him  in  the  face  these  seven  years  bygone." 
—  Wigton  Papers. 

"  With  savage  glee  came  Warristoun 

To  read  the  mtirderous  doom.'1'' — P.    33. 

Archibald  Johnston  of  Warristoun.  This  man,  who  was 
the  inveterate  enemy  of  Montrose,  and  who  carried  the  most 
selfish  spirit  into  every  intrigue  of  his  party,  received  the 
punishment  of  his  treasons  about  eleven  years  afterwards. 
It  may  be  instructive  to  learn  how  he  met  his  doom.  The 


40        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

following  extract  is  from  the  MSS.  of  Sir  George  Macken- 
zie : — "  The  Chancellor  and  others  waited  to  examine  him  ; 
he  fell  upon  his  face,  roaring,  and  with  tears  entreated  they 
would  pity  a  poor  creature  who  had  forgot  all  that  was  in 
the  Bible.  This  moved  all  the  spectators  with  a  deep 
melancholy  ;  and  the  Chancellor,  reflecting  upon  the  man's 
great  parts,  former  esteem,  and  the  great  share  he  had  in 
all  the  late  revolutions,  could  not  deny  some  tears  to  the 
frailty  of  silly  mankind.  At  his  examination  he  pretended 
he  had  lost  so  much  blood  by  the  unskilfulness  of  his 
chirurgeons,  that  he  lost  his  memory  with  his  blood  ;  and 
I  really  believe  that  his  courage  had  been  drawn  out  with 
it.  Within  a  few  days  he  was  brought  before  the  par- 
liament, where  he  discovered  nothing  but  much  weakness, 
running  up  and  down  upon  his  knees,  begging  mercy ;  but 
the  parliament  ordained  his  former  sentence  to  be  put  to 
execution,  and  accordingly  he  was  executed  at  the  Cross 
of  Edinburgh." 

"  And  God  who  made  shall  gather  them  : 
I  go  from  you  to  Him" — P.    34. 

"  He  said  he  was  much  beholden  to  the  parliament  for 
the  honor  they  put  on  him  ;  *  for,'  says  he,  '  I  think  it  a 
greater  honor  to  have  my  head  standing  on  the  port  of  this 
town,  for  this  quarrel,  than  to  have  my  picture  in  the  king's 
bed-chamber.  I  am  beholden  to  you  that,  lest  my  loyalty 
should  be  forgotten,  ye  have  appointed  five  of  your  most 
eminent  towns  to  bear  witness  of  it  to  osterity.'  " —  Wigton 
Papers. 

"  He  is  coming  !  he  is  coming  ! 

Like  a  bridegroom  from  his  room" — P.    3S« 

"  In  his  downgoings  from  the  Tolbooth  to  the  place  of 
execution,  he  was  very  richly  clad  in  fine  scarlet,  laid  over 
with  rich  silver  lace,  his  hat  in  his  hand,  his  bands  and 
cuffs  exceeding  rich,  his  delicate  white  gloves  on  his  hands. 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  MONTROSE.  41 

his  stockings  of  incarnate  silk,  and  his  shoes  with  their 
ribbons  on  his  feet;  and  sarks  provided  for  him  with 
pearling  about,  above  ten  pounds  the  elne.  All  these  were 
provided  for  him  by  his  friends,  and  a  pretty  cassock  put 
on  upon  him,  upon  the  scaffold,  wherein  he  was  hanged. 
To  be  short,  nothing  was  here  deficient  to  honor  his  poor 
carcase,  more  beseeming  a  bridegroom  than  a  criminal 
going  to  the  gallows." — NICHOLL'S  Diary. 

•'  The  grim  Geneva  ministers 

With  anxious  scowl  drew  near."— P.    36. 

The  Presbyterian  ministers  beset  Montrose  both  in  pris- 
on and  on  the  scaffold.  The  following  extracts  are  from  the 
diary  of  the  Rev.  Robert  Traill,  one  of  the  persons  who 
were  appointed  by  the  commission  of  the  kirk  "  to  deal 
with  him  :  " — "  By  a  warrant  from  the  kirk,  we  staid  awhile 
with  him  about  his  soul's  condition.  But  we  found  him 
continuing  in  his  old  pride,  and  taking  very  ill  what  was 
spoken  to  him,  saying,  '  I  pray  you,  gentlemen,  let  me  die 
in  peace.'  It  was  answered  that  he  might  die  in  true 
peace,  being  reconciled  to  the  Lord  and  to  his  kirk." — 
"  We  returned  to  the  commission,  and  did  show  unto  them 
what  had  passed  amongst  us.  They  seeing  that  for  the 
present  he  was  not  desiring  relaxation  from  his  censure  of 
excommunication,  did  appoint  Mr.  Mungo  Law  and  me 
to  attend  on  the  morrow  on  the  scaffold,  at  the  time  of  his 
execution,  that  in  case  he  should  desire  to  be  relaxed  from 
excommunication,  we  should  be  allowed  to  give  it  unto 
him  in  the  name  of  the  kirk,  and  to  pray  with  him  and  for 
him,  that  what  is  loosed  on  earth  might  be  loosed  in  heaven" 
But  this  pious  intention,  which  may  appear  somewhat 
strange  to  the  modern  Calvinist,  when  the  prevailing  theo- 
ries of  the  kirk  regarding  the  efficacy  of  absolution  are 
considered,  was  not  destined  to  be  fulfilled.  Mr.  Traill 
goes  on  to  say,  "  But  he  did  not  at  all  desire  to  be  relaxed 


42         LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

from  his  excommunication  in  the  name  of  the  kirk,  yea, 
did  not  look  towards  that  place  on  the  scaffold  where  we  stood  ; 
only  he  drew  apart  some  of  the  magistrates,  and  spake  a 
while  with  them,  and  then  went  up  the  ladder,  in  his  red 
scarlet  cassock,  in  a  very  stately  manner." 

"  And  he  climbed  the  lofty  ladder 

As  it  were  the  path  to  heaven.1'1   P.    36. 

"  He  was  very  earnest  that  he  might  have  the  liberty  to 
keep  on  his  hat — it  was  denied :  he  requested  he  might 
have  the  privilege  to  keep  his  cloak  about  him — neither 
could  that  be  granted.  Then,  with  a  most  undaunted 
courage  he  went  up  to  the  top  of  that  prodigious  gibbet." 
— "  The  whole  people  gave  a  general  groan ;  and  it  was 
very  observable,  that  even  those  who,  at  his  first  appear- 
ance, had  bitterly  inveighed  against  him,  could  not  now 
abstain  from  tears." — Montrose  Redivivus. 


THE  HEART  OF  THE   BRUCE. 


HECTOR  BOECE,  in  his  very  delightful,  though  somewhat 
apocryphal  Chronicles  of  Scotland,  tells  us,  that  "  quhen 
Schir  James  Douglas  was  chosin  as  maist  worthy  of  all 
Scotland  to  pass  with  King  Robertis  hart  to  the  Holy 
Land,  he  put  it  in  ane  cais  of  gold,  with  arromitike  and 
precious  unyementis ;  and  tuke  with  him  Schir  William 
Sinclare  and  Schir  Robert  Logan,  with  mony  othir  nobil- 
men,  to  the  haily  graif ;  quhare  he  buryit  the  said  hart, 
with  maist  reverence  and  solempnitie  that  could  be  de- 
visit." 

But  no  contemporary  historian  bears  out  the  statement 
of  the  old  Canon  of  Aberdeen.  Froissart,  Fordoun,  and 
Barbour  all  agree  that  the  devotional  pilgrimage  of  the 
good  Sir  James  was  not  destined  to  be  accomplished,  and 
that  the  heart  of  Scotland's  greatest  King  and  hero  was 
brought  back  to  the  land  of  his  nativity.  Mr.  Tytler,  in 
few  words,  has  so  graphically  recounted  the  leading  events 
of  this  expedition,  that  I  do  not  hesitate  to  adopt  his  nar- 
rative : — 

"  As  soon  as  the  season  of  the  year  permitted,  Douglas, 
having  the  heart  of  his  beloved  master  under  his  charge, 
set  sail  from  Scotland,  accompanied  by  a  splendid  retinue, 
and  anchored  off  Sluys  in  Flanders,  at  this  time  the  great 
seaport  of  the  Netherlands.  His  object  was  to  find  out 
companions  with  whom  he  might  travel  to  Jerusalem  ;  but 


44        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  FALTERS. 

he  declined  landing,  and  for  twelve  days  received  all  visit- 
ors on  board  his  ship  with  a  state  almost  kingly. 

"  At  Sluys  he  heard  that  Alonzo,  the  king  of  Leon  and 
Castile,  was  carrying  on  war  with  Osmyn,  the  Moorish  gover- 
nor of  Granada.  The  religious  mission  which  he  had  em- 
braced, and  the  vows  he  had  taken  before  leaving  Scotland, 
induced  Douglas  to  consider  Alonzo's  cause  as  a  holy  war- 
fare ;  and  before  proceeding  to  Jerusalem,  he  first  deter- 
mined to  visit  Spain,  and  to  signalize  his  prowess  against 
the  Saracens.  But  his  first  field  against  the  Infidels  proved 
fatal  to  him  who,  in  the  long  English  war,  had  seen  seventy 
battles.  The  circumstances  of  his  death  were  striking  and 
characteristic.  In  an  action  near  Theba,  on  the  borders 
of  Andalusia,  the  Moorish  cavalry  were  defeated  ;  and 
after  their  camp  had  been  taken,  Douglas,  with  his  com- 
panions, engaged  too  eagerly  in  the  pursuit,  and  being 
separated  from  the  main  body  of  the  Spanish  army,  a  strong 
division  of  the  Moors  rallied  and  surrounded  them.  The 
Scottish  knight  endeavored  to  cut  his  way  through  the  In- 
fidels, and  in  all  probability  would  have  succeeded,  had 
he  not  again  turned  to  rescue  Sir  William  Saint  Clair  of 
Roslin,  whom  he  saw  in  jeopardy.  In  attempting  this,  he 
was  inextricably  involved  with  the  enemy.  Taking  from 
his  neck  the  casket  which  contained  the  heart  of  Bruce,  he 
cast  it  before  him,  and  exclaimed  with  a  loud  voice,  '  Now 
pass  onward  as  thou  wert  wont,  and  Douglas  will  follow 
thee-or  die  ! '  The  action  and  the  sentiment  were  heroic, 
and  they  were  the  last  words  and  deed  of  a  heroic  life,  for 
Douglas  fell  overpowered  by  his  enemies ;  and  three  of 
his  knights,  and  many  of  his  companions,  were  slain  along 
with  their  master.  On  the  succeeding  day,  the  body  and 
the  casket  were  both  found  on  the  field,  and  by  his  survi- 
ving friends  conveyed  to  Scotland.  The  heart  of  Bruce 
was  deposited  at  Melrose,  and  the  body  of  the  '  Good  Sir 
James ' — the  name  by  which  he  is  affectionately  remem- 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  BRUCE.  45 

bered  by  his  countrymen — was  consigned  to  the  cemetery 
of  his  fathers  in  the  parish  church  of  Douglas." 

A  nobler  death  on  the  field  of  battle  is  not  recorded  in 
the  annals  of  chivalry.  In  memory  of  this  expedition,  the 
Douglases  have  ever  since  carried  the  armorial  bearings 
of  the  Bloody  Heart  surmounted  by  the  Crown  ;  and  a 
similiar  distinction  is  born  by  another  family.  Sir  Simon 
of  Lee,  a  distinguished  companion  of  Douglas,  was  the 
person  on  whom  after  the  fall  of  his  leader,  the  custody 
of  the  heart  devolved.  Hence  the  name  of  Lockhart  and 
their  effigy,  the  Heart  within  a  Fetterlock. 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  BRUCE. 


IT  was  upon  an  April  morn, 
While  yet  the  frost  lay  hoar, 

We  heard  Lord  James's  bugle-horn 
Sound  by  the  rocky  shore. 


ii. 


Then  down  we  went,  a  hundred  knights, 

All  in  our  dark  array, 
And  flung  our  armor  in  the  ships 

That  rode  within  the  bay. 


in. 


We  spoke  not,  as  the  shore  grew  less, 
But  gazed  in  silence  back, 

Where  the  long  billows  swept  away 
The  foam  behind  our  track. 


IV. 


And  aye  the  purple  hues  decayed 

Upon  the  fading  hill, 
And  but  one  heart  in  all  that  ship 

Was  tranquil,  cold,  and  still. 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  BRUCE.  47 

V. 

The  good  Lord  Douglas  paced  the  deck — 

Oh,  but  his  face  was  wan  ! 
Unlike  the  flush  it  used  to  wear 

When  in  the  battle-van. 

VI. 

"  Come  hither,  I  pray,  my  trusty  knight, 

Sir  Simon  of  the  Lee ; 
There  is  a  freit  lies  near  my  soul 

I  needs  must  tell  to  thee. 

VII. 

"  Thou  know'st  the  words  King  Robert  spoke 

Upon  his  dying  day  : 
How  he  bade  me  take  his  noble  heart 

And  carry  it  far  away  ; 

VIII. 

"  And  lay  it  in  the  holy  soil 

Where  once  the  Saviour  trod, 
Since  he  might  not  bear  the  blessed  Cross, 

Nor  strike  one  blow  for  God. 

IX. 

"  Last  night  as  in  my  bed  I  lay, 

I  dreamed  a  dreary  dream  : — 
Methought  I  saw  a  Pilgrim  stand 

In  the  moonlight's  quivering  beam. 

x. 

"  His  robe  was  of  the  azure  dye — 
Snow-white  his  scattered  hairs — 

And  even  such  a  cross  he  bore 
As  good  Saint  Andrew  bears. 


48         LA  ys  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

XI. 
"  '  Why  go  ye  forth,  Lord  James,'  he  said, 

'  With  spear  and  belted  brand  ? 
Why  do  you  take  its  dearest  pledge 

From  this  our  Scottish  land  ? 

XII. 

"'The  sultry  breeze  of  Galilee 

Creeps  through  its  groves  of  palm, 

The  olives  on  the  Holy  Mount 
Stand  glittering  in  the  calm. 

XIII. 

" '  But  'tis  not  there  that  Scotland's  heart 

Shall  rest,  by  God's  decree, 
Till  the  great  angel  calls  the  dead   . 

To  rise  from  earth  and  sea ! 

XIV. 

*  '  Lord  James  of  Douglas,  mark  my  rede  ! 

That  heart  shall  pass  once  more 
In  fiery  fight  against  the  foe, 

As  it  was  wont  of  yore. 

xv. 
"'And  it  shall  pass  beneath  the  cross, 

And  save  King  Robert's  vow  ; 
But  other  hands  shall  bear  it  back, 

Not,  James  of  Douglas,  thou ! ' 

xvr. 
"  Now,  by  thy  knightly  faith,  I  pray, 

Sir  Simon  of  the  Lee — 
Nor  truer  friend  had  never  man 

Than  thou  hast  been  to  me — 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  BRUCE.  49 

XVII. 
"  If  ne'er  upon  the  Holy  Land 

'Tis  mine  in  life  to  tread, 
Bear  thou  to  Scotland's  kindly  earth 

The  relics  of  her  dead." 

XVIII. 

The  tear  was  in  Sir  Simon's  eye 
As  he  wrung  the  warrior's  hand — 

"  Betide  me  weal,  betide  me  woe, 
I'll  hold  by  thy  command. 

XIX. 

"  But  if  in  battle-front,  Lord  James, 

'Tis  ours  once  more  to  ride, 
Nor  force  of  man,  nor  craft  of  fiend, 

Shall  cleave  me  from  thy  side !  " 

xx. 

And  aye  we  sailed,  and  aye  we  sailed, 

Across  the  weary  sea, 
Until  one  morn  the  coast  of  Spain 

Rose  grimly  on  our  lee, 

XXI. 

And  as  we  rounded  to  the  port, 

Beneath  the  watch-tower's  wall, 
We  heard  the  clash  of  the  atabals, 

And  the  trumpet's  wavering  call. 

XXII. 

"  Why  sounds  yon  Eastern  music  here 

So  wantonly  and  long, 
And  whose  the  crowd  of  armed  men 

That  round  yon  standard  throng?" 


50         LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

XXIII. 

"  The  Moors  have  come  from  Africa 

To  spoil,  and  waste,  and  slay, 
•  And  King  Alonzo  of  Castile 
Must  fight  with  them  to-day." 

XXIV. 

"  Now  shame  it  were,"  cried  good  Lord  James, 

"  Shall  never  be  said  of  me, 
That  I  and  mine  have  turned  aside 

From  the  Cross  in  jeopardie! 

xxv. 

"  Have  down,  have  down,  my  merry  men  all- 
Have  down  unto  the  plain  ; 

We'll  let  the  Scottish  lion  loose 
Within  the  fields  of  Spain !  " 

XXVI. 

"  Now  welcome  to  me,  noble  Lord, 

Thou  and  thy  stalwart  power  ; 
Dear  is  the  sight  of  a  Christian  knight, 

Who  comes  in  such  an  hour  ! 

XXVII. 

"  Is  it  for  bond  or  faith  you  come, 

Or  yet  for  golden  fee  ? 
Or  bring  ye  France's  lilies  here, 
Or  the  flower  of  Burgundie  ?  " 

XXVIII. 

"  God  greet  thee  well,  thou  valiant  king, 

Thee  and  thy  belted  peers — 
Sir  James  of  Douglas  am  I  called, 

And  these  are  Scottish  spears. 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  BRUCE.  51 

XXIX. 
"  We  do  not  fight  for  bond  or  plight, 

Nor  yet  for  golden  fee  ; 
But  for  the  sake  of  our  blessed  Lord, 

Who  died  upon  the  tree. 

xxx. 
"  We  bring  our  great  King  Robert's  heart 

Across  the  weltering  wave, 
To  lay  it  in  the  holy  soil 

Hard  by  the  Saviour's  grave. 

XXXI. 

"  True  pilgrims  we,  by  land  or  sea, 

Where  danger  bars  the  way ; 
And  therefore  are  we  here,  Lord  King, 

To  ride  with  thee  this  day ! " 

XXXII. 

The  King  has  bent  his  stately  head, 
And  the  tears  were  in  his  eyne — 

"  God's  blessing  on  thee,  noble  knight, 
For  this  brave  thought  of  thine ! 

XXXIII. 

"  I  know  thy  name  full  well,  Lord  James, 

And  honored  may  I  be, 
That  those  who  fought  beside  the  Bruce 

Should  fight  this  day  for  me  ! 

xxxiv. 
"  Take  thou  the  leading  of  the  van, 

And  charge  the  Moors  amain  ; 
There  is  not  such  a  lance  as  thine 

In  all  the  host  of  Spain  !  " 


$2        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

xxxv. 
The  Douglas  turned  towards  us  then, 

Oh,  but  his  glance  was  high ! 
"  There  is  not  one  of  all  my  men 

But  is  as  frank  as  I. 

xxxvi. 

"  There  is  not  one  of  all  my  knights 

But  bears  as  true  a  spear — 
Then — onwards,  Scottish  gentlemen, 

And  think,  King  Robert's  here!" 

XXXVII. 

The  trumpets  blew,  the  cross-bolts  flew, 
The  arrows  flashed  like  flame, 

As,  spur  in  side,  and  spear  in  rest, 
Against  the  foe  we  came. 

XXXVIII. 

And  many  a  bearded  Saracen 

Went  down,  both  horse  and  man ; 

For  through  their  ranks  we  rode  like  corn, 
So  furiously  we  ran  ! 

XXXIX. 

But  in  behind  our  path  they  closed, 

Though  fain  to  let  us  through ; 
For  they  were  forty  thousand  men, 

And  we  were  wondrous  few. 

XL. 
We  might  not  see  a  lance's  length, 

So  dense  was  their  array, 
But  the  long  fell  sweep  of  the  Scottish  blade 

Still  held  them  hard  at  bay. 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  BRUCE.  53 

XLI. 

"  Make  in  !  make  in  !  "  Lord  Douglas  cried — 

"  Make  in,  my  brethren  dear 
Sir  William  of  St.  Clair  is  down ; 

We  may  not  leave  him  here  !  " 

XLIL 
But  thicker,  thicker  grew  the  swarm, 

And  sharper  shot  the  rain  ; 
And  the  horses  reared  amid  the  press, 

But  they  would  not  charge  again,, 

XLIII. 
"  Now  Jesu  help  thee,"  said  Lord  James 

"  Thou  kind  and  true  St.  Clair ! 
An'  if  I  may  not  bring  thee  off, 

I'll  die  beside  thee  there!" 

XLIV. 

Then  in  the  stirrups  up  he  stood, 

So  lion-like  and  bold, 
And  held  the  precious  heart  aloft 

All  in  its  case  of  gold. 

XLV. 
He  flung  it  from  him  far  ahead, 

And  never  spake  he  more, 
But — "  Pass  thee  first,  thou  dauntless  heart, 

As  thou  wert  wont  of  yore  ! " 

XLVI. 
The  roar  of  fight  rose  fiercer  yet, 

And  heavier  still  the  stour, 
Till  the  spears  of  Spain  came  shivering  in, 

And  swept  away  the  Moor. 


54        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

XL  VII. 
"  Now  praised  be  God  the  day  is  won  ! 

They  fly  o'er  flood  and  fell — 
Why  dost  thou  draw  the  rein  so  hard, 

Good  knight,  that  fought  so  well  ?  " 

XLVIII. 
"  Oh,  ride  ye  on,  Lord  King ! "  he  said, 

"  And  leave  the  dead  to  me ; 
For  I  must  keep  the  dreariest  watch 

That  ever  I  shall  dree  ! 

XL  IX. 

"  There  lies  above  his  master's  heart, 
The  Douglas,  stark  and  grim  ; 

And  woe,  that  I  am  living  man, 
Not  lying  there  by  him  ! 

L. 
"  The  world  grows  cold,  my  arm  is  old, 

And  thin  my  lyart  hair, 
And  all  that  I  loved  best  on  earth 

Is  stretched  before  me  there. 

LI. 

"  O  Bothwell  banks,  that  bloom  so  bright 

Beneath  the  sun  of  May  ! 
The  heaviest  cloud  that  ever  blew 

Is  bound  for  you  this  day. 
LII. 

"  And,  Scotland,  thou  may'st  veil  thy  head 

In  sorrow  and  in  pain  : 
The  sorest  stroke  upon  thy  brow 

Hath  fallen  this  day  in  Spain  ! 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  BRUCE.  55 

LIU. 
"  We'll  bear  them  back  unto  our  ship, 

We'll  bear  them  o'er  the  sea, 
And  lay  them  in  the  hallowed  earth, 

Within  our  own  countrie. 

LIV. 
"  And  be  thou  strong  of  heart,  Lord  King, 

For  this  I  tell  thee  sure, 
The  sod  that  drank  the  Douglas'  blood 

Shall  never  bear  the  Moor ! " 

LV. 
The  King  he  lighted  from  his  horse, 

He  flung  his  brand  away, 
And  took  the  Douglas  by  the  hand, 

So  stately  as  he  lay. 

LVI. 
"  God  give  thee  rest,  thou  valiant  soul ! 

That  fought  so  well  for  Spain  ; 
I'd  rather  half  my  land  were  gone, 
So  thou  wert  here  again  ! " 
LVII. 

We  lifted  thence  the  good  Lord  James, 

And  the  priceless  heart  he  bore ; 
And  heavily  we  steered  our  ship 

Towards  the  Scottish  shore. 

LVIII. 
No  welcome  greeted  our  return, 

Nor  clang  of  martial  tread, 
But  all  were  dumb  and  hushed  as  death, 

Before  the  mighty  dead. 


$6         LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

LIX. 

We  laid  our  chief  in  Douglas  Kirk, 

The  heart  in  fair  Melrose  ; 
And  woful  men  were  we -that  day — 

God  grant  their  souls  repose  ! 


THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE. 


IT  is  very  much  to  be  regretted  that  no  competent  person 
has  as  yet  undertaken  the  task  of  compiling  a  full  and 
authentic  biography  of  Lord  Viscount  Dundee.  His 
memory  has  consequently  been  left  at  the  mercy  of 
writers  who  have  espoused  the  opposite  political  creed ; 
and  the  pen  of  romance  has  been  freely  employed  to  por- 
tray as  a  bloody  assassin  one  of  the  most  accomplished 
men  and  gallant  soldiers  of  his  age. 

In  order  to  do  justice  to  Claverhouse,  we  must  regard 
him  in  connection  with  the  age  and  country  in  which  he 
lived.  The  religious  differences  of  Scotland  were  then 
at  their  greatest  height ;  and  there  is  hardly  any  act  of 
atrocity  and  rebellion  which  had  not  been  committed 
by  the  insurgents.  The  royal  authority  was  openly  and 
publicly  disowned  in  the  western  districts :  the  Arch- 
bishop of  St.  Andrews,  after  more  than  one  hair-breadth 
escape,  had  been  waylaid  and  barbarously  murdered  by 
an  armed  gang  of  fanatics  on  Magus  Muir ;  and  his 
daughter  was  wounded  and  maltreated  while  interceding 
for  the  old  man's  life.  The  country  was  infested  by  ban- 
ditti, who  took  every  possible  opportunity  of  shooting 


58        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

down  and  massacring  any  of  the  straggling  soldiery  :  the 
clergy  were  attacked  and  driven  from  their  houses  ;  so 
that,  throughout  a  considerable  portion  of  Scotland,  there 
was  no  security  either  for  property  or  for  life.  It  was 
lately  the  fashion  to  praise  and  magnify  the  Covenanters 
as  the  most  innocent  and  persecuted  of  men  ;  but  thos-i 
who  are  so  ready  with  their  sympathy,  rarely  take  the 
pains  to  satisfy  themselves,  by  reference  to  the  annals  of 
the  time,  of  the  true  character  and  motives  of  those  men 
whom  they  blindly  venerate  as  martyrs.  They  forget,  in 
their  zeal  for  religious  freedom,  that  even  the  purest  and 
holiest  of  causes  may  be  sullied  and  disgraced  by  the 
deeds  of  its  upholders,  and  that  a  wild  and  frantic  profes- 
sion of  faith  is  not  always  a  test  of  genuine  piety.  It  is 
not  in  the  slightest  degree  necessary  to  discuss  whether 
the  royal  prerogative  was  at  that  time  arbitrarily  used,  or 
whether  the  religious  freedom  of  the  nation  was  unduly 
curtailed.  Both  points  may  be,  and  indeed  are,  admit- 
ted— for  it  is  impossible  altogether  to  vindicate  the  policy 
of  the  measures  adopted  by  the  two  last  monarchs  of  the 
house  of  Stuart;  but  neither  admission  will  clear  the 
Covenanters  from  the  stain  of  deliberate  cruelty. 

After  the  battle  of  Philiphaugh,  the  royalist  prisoners 
were  butchered  in  cold  blood,  under  the  superintendence 
of  a  clerical  emissary,  who  stood  by  rubbing  his  hands, 
and  exclaiming — "  The  wark  gangs  bonnily  on  !"  Were 
I  to  transcribe,  from  the  pamphlets  before  me,  the  list  of 
the  murders  which  were  perpetrated  by  the  country 
people  on  the  soldiery,  officers  and  gentlemen  of  loyal 
principles,  during  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  I  believe  that 
no  candid  person  would  be  surprised  at  the  severe  retalia- 
tion which  was  made.  It  must  be  remembered  that  the 
country  was  then  under  military  law,  and  that  the  strict- 
est orders  had  been  issued  by  the  Government  to  the 
officers  in  command  of  the  troops,  to  use  every  means 


THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE.  59 

in  their  power  for  the  effectual  repression  of  the  disturb- 
ances. The  necessity  of  such  orders  will  become  appa- 
rent, when  we  reflect  that,  besides  the  open  actions  at 
Aird's  Moss  and  Drumclog,  the  city  of  Glasgow  was 
attacked,  and  the  royal  forces  compelled  for  a  time  to  fall 
back  upon  Stirling. 

Under  such  circumstances,  it  is  no  wonder  if  the 
soldiery  were  severe  in  their  reprisals.  Innocent  blood 
may  no  doubt  have  been  shed,  and  in  some  cases  even 
wantonly ;  for  when  rebellion  has  grown  into  civil  war, 
and  the  ordinary  course  of  the  law  is  put  in  abeyance,  it 
is  always  impossible  to  restrain  military  license.  But  it 
is  most  unfair  to  lay  the  whole  odium  of  such  acts  upon 
those  who  were  in  command,  and  to  dishonor  the  fair 
names  of  gentlemen,  by  attributing  to  them  personally,  the 
commission  of  deeds  of  which  they  were  absolutely  igno- 
rant. To  this  day  the  peasantry  of  the  western  districts 
of  Scotland  entertain  the  idea  that  Claverhouse  was  a 
sort  of  fiend  in  human  shape,  tall,  muscular,  and  hideous 
in  aspect,  secured  by  infernal  spells  from  the  chance 
of  perishing  by  any  ordinary  weapon,  and  mounted  on 
a  huge  black  horse,  the  especial  gift  of  Beelzebub  !  On 
this  charger  it  is  supposed  that  he  could  ride  up  preci- 
pices as  easily  as  he  could  traverse  the  level  ground — that 
he  was  constantly  accompanied  by  a  body  of  desperadoes, 
vulgarly  known  by  such  euphonious  titles  as  "  Hell's  Tarn  " 
and  "  the  De'ils  Jock,"  and  that  his  whole  time  was  occu- 
pied, day  and  night,  in  hunting  Covenanters  upon  the 
hills  !  Almost  every  rebel  who  was  taken  in  arms  and 
shot,  is  supposed  to  have  met  his  death  from  the  individ- 
ual pistol  of  Claverhouse  ;  and  the  tales  which,  from 
time  to  time,  have  been  written  by  such  ingenious  persons 
as  the  late  Mr.  Gait  and  the  Ettrick  Shepherd,  have 
quietly  been  assumed  as  facts,  and  added  to  the  store  of 
our  traditionary  knowledge.  It  is  in  vain  to  hint  that 


60        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

the  chief  commanders  of  the  forces  in  Scotland  could 
have  found  little  leisure,  even  had  they  possessed  the 
taste,  for  pursuing  single  insurgents.  Such  suggestions 
are  an  insult  to  martyrology ;  and  many  a  parish  of  the 
west  would  be  indignant  were  it  averred  that  the  tenant 
of  its  grey  stone  had  suffered  by  a  meaner  hand0 

When  we  look  at  the  portrait  of  Claverhouse,  and 
survey  the  calm,  melancholy  and  beautiful  features  of 
the  devoted  soldier,  it  appears  almost  incredible  that 
he  should  have  provoked  so  much  calumny  and  misrepre- 
sentation. But  when — discarding  modern  historians,  who 
in  too  many  instances  do  not  seem  to  entertain  the  slight- 
est scruple  in  dealing  with  the  memory  of  the  dead  * 
— we  turn  to  the  writings  of  his  contemporaries,  who 
knew  the  man,  his  character  appears  in  a  very  different 
light.  They  describe  him  as  one  who  was  stainless  in  his 
honor,  pure  in  his  faith,  wise  in  council,  resolute  in 
action,  and  utterly  free  from  that  selfishness  whic  dis- 
graced many  of  the  Scottish  statesmen  of  the  time  No 
one  dares  question  his  loyalty,  for  he  sealed  that  confes- 
sion with  his  blood  ;  and  it  is  universally  admitted  that 
with  him  fell  the  last  hopes  of  the  reinstatement  of  the 
house  of  Stuart. 

I  may  perhaps  be  permitted  here,  in  the  absence  of 
a  better  chronicler,  to  mention  a  few  particulars  of  his 
life,  which,  I  believe,  are  comparatively  unknown.  John 
Grahame  of  Claverhouse  was  a  cadet  of  the  family  of 
Fintrie,  connected  by  intermarriage  with  the  blood-royal 
of  Scotland.  After  completing  his  studies  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  St.  Andrews,  he  entered,  as  was  the  national  cus- 
tom for  gentlemen  of  good  birth  and  limited  means,  into 
foreign  service  ;  served  some  time  in  France  as  a  volunteer, 
and  afterwards  went  to  Holland.  He  very  soon  received  a 

*  Vide  APPENDIX. 


THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE.          61 

commission,  as  a  cornet  in  a  regiment  of  horse-guards, 
from  the  Prince  of  Orange,  nephew  of  Charles  II.  and 
James  VII.,  and  who  afterwards  married  the  Princess 
Mary.  His  manner  at  that  time  is  thus  described  : — "  He 
was  then  ane  esquire  under  the  title  of  John  Grahame,  of 
Claverhouse  ;  but  the  vivacity  of  his  parts,  and  the  de'i- 
cacy  and  justice  of  his  understanding  and  judgment, 
joined  with  a  certain  vigor  of  mind  and  activity  of  body 
distinguished  him  in  such  a  manner  from  all  others  of  his 
rank,  that  though  he  lived  in  a  superior  character,  yet 
he  acquired  the  love  and  esteem  of  all  his  equals  as 
well  as  of  those  who  had  the  advantage  of  him  in  dignity 
and  estate." 

By  one  of  those  singular  accidents  which  we  occasionally 
meet  with  in  history,  Grahame,  afterwards  destined  to 
become  his  most  formidable  opponent,  saved  the  life  of  the 
Prince  of  Orange  at  the  battle  of  St.  Neff.  The  Prince's 
horse  had  been  killed,  and  he  himself  was  in  the  grasp  of 
the  enemy,  when  the  young  cornet  rode  to  his  rescue, 
freed  him  from  his  assailants,  and  mounted  him  on  his 
own  steed.  For  this  service  he  received  a  captain's  com- 
mission, and  the  promise  of  the  first  regiment  that  should 
fall  vacant. 

But,  even  in  early  life,  William  of  Orange  was  not 
famous  for  keeping  his  promises.  Some  years  afterwards 
a  vacancy  in  one  of  the  Scottish  Regiments  in  the  Prince's 
service  occurred,  and  Claverhouse,  relying  upon  the  prej 
vious  assurance,  preferred  his  claim.  It  was  disregarded, 
and  Mr.  Collier,  afterwards  Earl  of  Portmore,  was  appoint- 
ed  over  his  head.  It  would  seem  that  Grahame  had 
suspected  some  foul  play  on  the  part  of  this  gentleman, 
for,  shortly  after,  they  accidentally  met  and  had  an  angry 
altercation.  This  circumstance  having  come  to  the  ears 
of  the  Prince,  he  sent  for  Captain  Grahame,  and  adminis- 
tered a  sharp  rebuke.  I  give  the  remainder  of  this 


62         LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

incident  in  the  wards  of  the  old  writer,  because  it  must 
be  considered  a  very  remarkable  one,  as  illustrating  the 
fiery  spirit  and  dauntless  independence  of  Claverhouse. 

"  The  Captain  answered,  that  he  was  indeed  in  the 
wrong,  since  it  was  more  his  Highness's  business  to  have 
resented  that  quarrel  than  his  ;  because  Mr.  Collier  had 
less  injured  him  in  disappointing  him  of  the  regiment, 
than  he  had  done  his  Highness  in  making  him  break  his 
word.  *  Then,'  replied  the  Prince  in  an  angry  tone,  *  I 
make  you  full  reparation  ;  for  I  bestow  on  you  what  is 
more  valuable  than  a  regiment,  when  I  give  you  your 
right  arm  ! '  The  Captain  subjoined,  that  since  his  High- 
ness had  the  goodness  to  give  him  his  liberty,  he  resolved 
to  employ  himself  elsewhere,  for  he  would  not  longer  serve 
a  Prince  that  had  broken  his  word. 

"  The  Captain,  having  thus  thrown  up  his  commission, 
was  preparing  in  haste  for  his  voyage,  when  a  messenger 
arrived  from  the  Prince,  with  two  hundred  guineas  for 
the  horse  on  which  he  had  saved  his  life.  The  Captain 
sent  the  horse,  but  he  ordered  the  gold  to  be  distributed 
among  the  grooms  of  the  Prince's  stable.  It  is  said, 
however,  that  his  Highness  had  the  generosity  to  write  to 
the  King  and  the  Duke,  recommending  him  as  a  fine 
gentleman  and  a  brave  officer,  fit  for  any  office,  civil  or 
military."* 

On  his  arrival  in  Britain  he  was  well  received  by  the 
Court,  and  immediately  appointed  to  a  high  military  com- 
mand in  Scotland.  It  would  be  beyond  the  scope  of  the 
present  paper  to  enter  minutely  into  the  details  of  his 
service  during  the  stormy  period  when  Scotland  was  cer- 
tainly misgoverned  and  when  there  was  little  unity,  but 
much  disorder  in  the  land.  In  whatever  point  of  view 
we  regard  the  history  of  those  times,  the  aspect  is  a  mourn- 

*  Memoirs  of  the  Lord  Viscount  of  Dundee,     London:  1714. 


THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE.  63 

ful  one  indeed.  Church  and  State  never  was  a  popular 
cry  in  Scotland ;  and  the  peculiar  religious  tendencies 
which  had  been  exhibited  by  a  large  portion  of  the  nation, 
at  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  rendered  the  return  of  tran- 
quillity hopeless,  until  the  hierarchy  was  displaced,  and  a 
humbler  form  of  church  government,  more  suited  to  the 
feelings  of  the  people,  substituted  in  its  stead. 

Three  years  after  the  accession  of  James.  VII.,  Claver- 
house  was  raised  to  the  peerage,  by  the  title  of  Lord 
Viscount  of  Dundee.  He  was  major-general  and  second 
in  command  of  the  royal  forces  when  the  Prince  of  Orange 
landed ;  and  he  earnestly  entreated  King  James  to  be 
allowed  to  march  against  him,  offering  to  stake  his  head 
on  the  successful  result  of  the  enterprise.  There  can  be 
little  doubt,  from  the  great  popularity  of  Lord  Dundee 
with  the  army,  that,  had  such  consent  been  given,  William 
would  have  found  more  than  a.  match  in  his  old  officer  • 
but  the  King  seemed  absolutely  infatuated,  and  refused 
to  allow  a  drop  of  blood  to  be  shed  in  his  quarrel,  though 
the  great  bulk  of  the  population  of  England  were  clearly 
and  enthusiastically  in  his  favor.  A  modern  poet,  the 
Honorable  George  Sydney  Smythe,  has  well  illustrated 
this  event  in  the  following  spirited  lines  : — 

"  Then  out  spake  gallant  Claverhouse,  and  his  soul  thrilled  wide  and 

high, 

And  he  showed  the  King  his  subjects,  and  he  prayed  him  not  to  fly. 
Oh,  never  yet  was  captain  so  dauntless  as  Dundee — 
He  has  sworn  to  chase  the  Hollander  back  to  his  Zuyder-Zee !  " 

But  though  James  quitted  his  kingdom,  the  stern  loyalty 
of  Dundee  was  nothing  moved.  Alone  and  without  escort 
he  traversed  England,  and  presented  himself  at  the  Con- 
vention of  Estates,  then  assembled  at  Edinburgh  for  the 
purpose  of  receiving  the  message  from  the  Prince  of 
Orange.  The  meeting  was  a  very  strange  one.  Many  of 


64       LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

the  nobility  and  former  members  of  the  Scottish  Parliament 
had  absolutely  declined  attending  it, — some  on  the  ground 
that  it  was  not  a  legal  assembly,  having  been  summoned 
by  the  Prince  of  Orange  ;  and  others  because,  in  such  a 
total  disruption  of  order,  they  judged  it  safest  to  abstain 
from  taking  any  prominent  part.  This  gave  an  immense 
ascendancy  to  the  Revolution  party,  who  further  proceeded 
to  strengthen  their  position  by  inviting  to  Edinburgh  large 
bodies  of  the  armed  population  of  the  west.  After  defend- 
ing for  several  days  the  cause  of  his  master,  with  as  much 
eloquence  as  vigor,  Dundee,  finding  that  the  majority  of 
the  Convention  were  resolved  to  offer  the  crown  of  Scot- 
land to  the  Prince,  and  having  moreover  received  sure  in- 
formation that  some  of  the  wild  frantic  Whigs,  with  Daniel 
Ker  of  Kersland  at  their  head,  had  formed  a  plot  for  his 
assassination,  quitted  Edinburgh  with  about  fifty  horse- 
men, and,  after  a  short  interview — celebrated  by  Sir  Walter 
Scott  in  one  of  his  grandest  ballads — with  the  Duke  of 
Gordon  at  the  Castle  rock,  directed  his  steps  towards  the 
north.  After  a  short  stay  at  his  house  of  Dudhope,  during 
which  he  received,  by  order  of  the  Council,  who  were 
thoroughly  alarmed  at  his  absence,  a  summons  through  a 
Lyon-herald  to  return  to  Edinburgh  under  pain  of  high 
treason,  he  passed  into  the  Gordon  country,  where  he  was 
joined  by  the  Earl  of  Dunfermline  with  a  small  party  of 
about  sixty  horse.  His  retreat  was  timeous,  for  General 
Mackay,  who  commanded  for  the  Prince  of  Orange,  had 
despatched  a  strong  force,  with  instructions  to  make  him 
prisoner.  From  this  time  until  the  day  of  his  death  he 
allowed  himself  no  repose.  Imitating  the  example  and 
inheriting  the  enthusiasm  of  his  great  predecessor  Montrose, 
iie  invoked  the  loyalty  of  the  clans  to  assist  him  in  the 
struggle  for  legitimacy, — and  he  did  not  appeal  to  them  in 
vain.  His  name  was  a  spell  to  rouse  the  ardent  spirits  of 
the  mountaineers  ;  and  not  the  Great  Marquess  himself,  in 


THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE.  65 

the  height  of  his  renown,  was  more  sincerely  welcomed 
and  more  fondly  loved  than  "  Ian  dhu  nan  Cath," — dark 
John  of  the  battles, — the  name  by  which  Lord  Dundee 
is  still  remembered  in  Highland  song.  In  the  mean  time 
the  Convention,  terrified  at  their  danger,  and  dreading  a 
Highland  inroad,  had  despatched  Mackay,  a  military 
officer  of  great  experience,  with  a  considerable  body  of 
troops,  to  quell  the  threatened  insurrection.  He  was  en- 
countered by  Dundee,  and  compelled  to  evacuate  the  high 
country  and  fall  back  upon  the  Lowlands,  where  he  sub- 
sequently received  reinforcements,  and  again  marched 
northward.  The  Highland  host  was  assembled  at  Blair, 
though  not  in  great  force,  when  the  news  of  Mackay's 
advance  arrived ;  and  a  council  of  the  chiefs  and  officers 
was  summoned,  to  determine  whether  it  would  be  most 
advisable  to  fall  back  upon  the  glens  and  wild  fastnesses 
of  the  Highlands,  or  to  meet  the  enemy  at  once,  though 
with  a  far  inferior  force. 

Most  of  the  old  officers,  who  had  been  trained  in  the 
foreign  wars,  were  of  the  former  opinion — "  alleging  that 
it  was  neither  prudent  nor  cautious  to  risk  an  engagement 
against  an  army  of  disciplined  men,  that  exceeded  theirs 
in  number  by  more  than  a  half."  But  both  Glengarry 
and  Locheill,  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  general, 
maintained  the  contrary  view,  and  argued  that  neither 
hunger  nor  fatigue  were  so  likely  to  depress  the  High- 
landers as  a  retreat  when  the  enemy  was  in  view.  The 
account  of  the  discussion  is  so  interesting,  and  so  charac- 
teristic of  Dundee,  that  I  shall  take  leave  to  quote  its 
termination  in  the  words  of  Drummond  of  Balhaldy : — 

"  An  advice  so  hardy  and  resolute  could  not  miss  to 
please  the  generous  Dundee.  His  looks  seemed  to  heighten 
with  an  air  of  delight  and  satisfaction  all  the  while  Loch- 
eill was  speaking.  He  told  his  council  that  they  had 
heard  his  sentiments  from  the  mouth  of  a  person  who  had 


66        LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

formed  his  judgment  upon  infallible  proofs  drawn  from  a 
long  experience,  and  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
persons  and  subject  he  spoke  of.  Not  one  in  the  company 
offering  to  contradict  their  general,  it  was  unanimously 
agreed  to  fight. 

"  When  the  news  of  this  vigorous  resolution  spread 
through  the  army,  nothing  was  heard  but  acclamations  of 
joy,  which  exceedingly  pleased  their  gallant  general ;  but 
before  the  council  broke  up,  Locheill  begged  to  be  heard 
for  a  few  words.  '  My  Lord,'  said  he,  *  I  have  just  now 
declared,  in  presence  of  this  honorable  company,  that  I 
was  resolved  to  give  an  implicit  obedience  to  all  your  Lord- 
ship's commands  ;  but  I  humbly  beg  leave  in  name  of  these 
gentlemen,  to  give  the  word  of  command  for  this  one  time. 
It  is  the  voice  of  your  council,  and  their  orders  are  that 
you  do  not  engage  personally.  Your  Lordship's  business 
is  to  have  an  eye  on  all  parts,  and  to  issue  out  your  com- 
mands as  you  shall  think  proper ;  it  is  ours  to  execute  them 
with  promptitude  and  courage.  On  your  Lordship  de- 
pends the  fate,  not  only  of  this  little  brave  army,  but  also 
of  our  King  and  country.  If  your  Lordship  deny  us  this 
reasonable  demand,  for  my  own  part  I  declare,  that  neither 
I,  nor  any  I  am  concerned  in,  shall  draw  a  sword  on  this 
important  occasion,  whatever  construction  shall  be  put  upon 
the  matter.' 

"  Locheill  was  seconded  in  this  by  the  whole  council ;  but 
Dundee  begged  leave  to  be  heard  in  his  turn.  '  Gentle- 
men,' said  he,  '  as  I  am  absolutely  convinced,  and  have  had 
repeated  proofs,  of  your  zeal  for  the  King's  service  and 
of  your  affection  to  me  as  his  general  and  your  friend,  so  I 
am  fully  sensible  that  my  engaging  personally  this  day 
may  be  of  some  loss  if  I  shall  chance  to  be  killed.  But  I 
beg  leave  of  you,  however,  to  allow  me  to  give  one  shear 
darg  (that  is,  one  harvest-day's  work)  to  the  King,  my 
master,  that  I  may  have  an  opportunity  of  convincing  the 


THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE.  67 

brave  clans  that  I  can  hazard  my  life  in  that  service  as 
freely  as  the  meanest  of  them.  Ye  know  their  temper, 
gentlemen ;  and  if  they  do  not  think  I  have  personal 
courage  enough  they  will  not  esteem  me  hereafter,  nor 
obey  my  commands  with  cheerfulness.  Allow  me  this 
single  favor,  and  I  here  promise,  upon  my  honor,  never 
again  to  risk  my  person  while  I  have  that  of  commanding 
you." 

"  The  council,  finding  him  inflexible,  broke  up,  and  the 
army  marched  directly  towards  the  Pass  of  Killiecrankie." 

Those  who  have  visited  that  romantic  spot  need  not  be 
reminded  of  its  peculiar  features,  for  these,  once  seen,  must 
dwell  for  ever  in  the  memory.  The  lower  part  of  the 
Pass  is  a  stupendous  mountain-chasm,  scooped  out  by  the 
waters  of  the  Garry,  which  here  descend  in  a  succession 
of  roaring  cataracts  and  pools.  The  old  road,  which  ran 
almost  parallel  to  the  river  and  close  upon  its  edge,  was 
extremely  narrow,  and  wound  its  way  beneath  a  wall  of 
enormous  crags,  surmounted  by  a  natural  forest  of  birch, 
oak  and  pine.  An  army  cooped  up  in  that  gloomy  ravine 
would  have  as  little  chance  of  escape  from  the  onset  of  an 
enterprising  partisan  corps,  as  had  the  Bavarian  troops 
when  attacked  by  the  Tyrolese  in  the  steep  defiles  of  the 
Inn.  General  Mackay,  however,  had  made  his  arrange- 
ments with  consummate  tact  and  skill,  and  had  calculated 
his  time  so  well,  that  he  was  enabled  to  clear  the  Pass  be- 
fore the  Highlanders  could  reach  it  from  the  other  side. 
Advancing  upwards,  the  passage  becomes  gradually  broader 
until,  just  below  the  House  of  Urrard,  there  is  a  consid- 
erable width  of  meadow-land.  It  was  here  that  Mackay 
took  up  his  position,  and  arrayed  his  troops,  on  observing 
that  the  heights  above  were  occupied  by  the  army  of 
Dundee. 

The  forces  of  the  latter  scarcely  amounted  to  one-third 
of  those  of  his  antagonist,  which  were  drawn  up  in  line 


68        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

without  any  reserve.  He  was  therefore  compelled,  in 
making  his  dispositions,  to  leave  considerable  gaps  in  his 
own  line,  which  gave  Mackay  a  further  advantage.  The 
right  of  Dundee's  army  was  formed  of  the  M'Lean,  Glen- 
garry, and  Clanranald  regiments,  along  with  some  Irish 
levies.  In  the  centre  was  Dundee  himself,  at  the  head  of 
a  small  and  ill-equipped  body  of  cavalry,  composed  of 
Lowland  gentlemen  and  their  followers,  and  about  forty 
of  his  old  troopers.  The  Camerons  and  Skyemen,  under 
the  command  of  Locheill  and  Sir  Donald  Macdonald  of 
Sleat,  were  stationed  on  the  left.  During  the  time  oc- 
cupied by  these  dispositions,  a  brisk  cannonade  was  opened 
by  Mackay's  artillery,  which  materially  increased  the  im- 
patience of  the  Highlanders  to  come  to  close  quarters.  At 
last  the  word  was  given  to  advance,  and  the  whole  line 
rushed  forward  with  the  terrific  impetuosity  peculiar  to  a 
charge  of  the  clans.  They  received  the  fire  of  the  regular 
troops  without  flinching,  reserved  their  own  until  they 
were  close  at  hand,  poured  in  a  murderous  volley,  and  then 
throwing  away  their  firelocks,  attacked  the  enemy  with  the 
broadsword. 

The  victory  was  almost  instantaneous,  but  it  was  bought 
at  a  terrible  price.  Through  some  mistake  or  misunder- 
standing, a  portion  of  the  cavalry,  instead  of  following  their 
general,  who  had  charged  directly  for  the  guns,  executed 
a  manoeuvre  which  threw  them  into  disorder  •  and  when 
last  seen  in  the  battle,  Dundee,  accompanied  only  by  the 
Earl  of  Dunfermline  and  about  sixteen  gentlemen,  was 
entering  into  the  cloud  of  smoke,  standing  up  in  his  stir- 
rups, and  waving  to  the  others  to  come  on.  It  was  in  this 
attitude  that  he  appears  to  have  received  his  death-wound 
On  returning  from  the  pursuit,  the  Highlanders  found  him 
dying  on  the  field. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  point  out  another  instance  in 
which  the  maintenance  of  a  great  cause  depended  solely 


THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE,          69 

upon  the  life  of  a  single  man.  Whilst  Dundee  survived, 
Scotland  at  least  was  not  lost  to  the  Stuarts,  for  shortly 
before  the  battle  he  had  received  assurance  that  the  greater 
part  of  the  organized  troops  in  the  north  were  devoted  to 
his  person,  and  ready  to  join  him  ;  and  the  victory  of  Killie- 
crankie  would  have  been  followed  by  a  general  rising  of 
the  loyal  gentlemen  in  the  Lowlands.  But  with  his  fall  the 
enterprise  was  over. 

I  hope  I  shall  not  be  accused  of  exaggerating  the  im- 
portance of  this  battle,  which,  according  to  the  writer  I 
have  already  quoted,  was  best  proved  by  the  consternation 
into  which  the  opposite  party  were  thrown  at  the  first  news 
of  Mackay's  defeat.  "  The  Duke  of  Hamilton,  commis- 
sioner for  the  parliament  which  then  sat  at  Edinburgh,  and 
the  rest  of  the  ministry,  were  struck  with  such  a  panic, 
that  some  of  them  were  for  retiring  into  England,  others 
into  the  western  shires  of  Scotland,  where  all  the  people 
almost  to  a  man,  befriended  them  ;  nor  knew  they  whether 
to  abandon  the  government,  or  to  stay  a  few  days  until 
they  saw  what  use  my  Lord  Dundee  would  make  of  his 
victory.  They  knew  the  rapidity  of  his  motions,  and  were 
convinced  that  he  would  allow  them  no  time  to  deliberate. 
On  this  account  it  was  debated,  whether  such  of  the  no- 
bility and  gentry  as  were  confined  for  adhering  to  their 
old  master,  should  be  immediately  set  at  liberty  or  more 
closely  shut  up ;  and  though  the  last  was  determined  on, 
yet  the  greatest  revolutionists  among  them  made  private 
and  frequent  visits  to  these  prisoners,  excusing  what  was 
past,  from  a  fatal  necessity  of  the  times,  which  obliged 
them  to  give  a  seeming  compliance,  but  protesting  that  they 
always  wished  well  to  King  James,  as  they  should  soon 
have  occasion  to  show  when  my  Lord  Dundee  advanced." 

"  The  next  morning  after  the  battle,"  says  Drummond, 
"the  Highland  army  had  more  the  air  of  the  shattered 


70        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

remains  of  broken  troops  than  of  conquerors  ;  for  here  it 
was  literally  true  that 

'  The  vanquished  triumphed,  and  the  victors  mourned.' 

The  death  of  their  brave  general,  and  the  loss  of  so  many 
of  their  friends,  were  inexhaustible  fountains  of  grief  and 
sorrow.  They  closed  the  last  scene  of  this  mournful  tragedy 
in  obsequies  of  their  lamented  general,  and  of  the  other 
gentlemen  who  fell  with  him,  and  interred  them  in  the 
church  of  Blair  of  Atholl  with  a  real  funeral  solemnity, 
there  not  being  present  one  single  person  who  did  not 
participate  in  the  general  affliction." 

I  close  this  notice  of  a  great  soldier  and  devoted  loyal- 
ist, by  transcribing  the  beautiful  epitaph  composed  by  Dr. 
Pitcairn  : 

"  Ultime  Scotorum,  potuit  quo  sospite  solo 
Libertas  patriae  salva  fuisse  tuas  : 
Te  moriente,  novos  accepit  Scotia  cives, 
Accepitque  novos,  te  moriente,  deos. 
II  la  tibi  superesse  negat :  tu  non  potes  illi : 
Ergo  Caledoniae  nomen  inane  vale  : 
Tuque  vale,  gentis  priscae  fortissime  duct'or 
Optime  Scotorum  atque  ultime — Grame,  vale  ! 


THE 

BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE 


SOUND  the  fife,  and  cry  the  slogan — 

Let  the  pibroch  shake  the  air 
With  its  wild  triumphal  music, 

Worthy  of  the  freight  we  bear. 
Let  the  ancient  hills  of  Scotland 

Hear  once  more  the  battle-song  . 
Swell  within  their  glens  and  valleys 

As  the  clansmen  march  along ! 
Never  from  the  field  of  combat, 

Never  from  the  deadly  fray, 
Was  a  nobler  trophy  carried 

Then  we  bring  with  us  to-day — 
Never,  since  the  valiant  Douglas 

On  his  dauntless  bosom  bore 
Good  King  Robert's  heart — the  priceless- 

To  our  dear  Redeemer's  shore! 
Lo  we  bring  with  us  the  hero — 

Lo  !  we  bring  the  conquering  Grasme, 
Crowned  as  best  beseems  a  victor 

From  the  altar  of  his  fame ; 


72         LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

Fresh  and  bleeding  from  the  battle 

Whence  his  spirit  took  its  flight, 
Midst  the  crashing  charge  of  squadrons, 

And  the  thunder  of  the  fight ! 
Strike,  I  say,  the  notes  of  triumph, 

As  we  march  o'er  moor  and  lea ! 
Is  there  any  here  will  venture 

To  bewail  our  dead  Dundee  ? 
Let  the  widows  of  the  traitors 

Weep  until  their  eyes  are  dim  ! 
Wail  ye  may  full  well  for  Scotland — 

Let  none  dare  to  mourn  for  him  ! 
See  !  above  his  glorious  body 

Lies  the  royal  banner's  fold — 
See  !  his  valiant  blood  is  mingled — 

With  its  crimson  and  its  gold — 
See  how  calm  he  looks,  and  stately, 

Like  a  warrior  on  his  shield, 
Waiting  till  the  flush  of  morning 

Breaks  along  the  battle-field  ! 
See — Oh  never  more,  my  comrades, 

Shall  we  see  that  falcon  eye 
Redden  with  its  inward  lightning, 

As  the  hour  of  fight  drew  nigh. 
Never  shall  we  hear  the  voice  that, 

Clearer  than  the  trumpet's  call, 
Bade  us  strike  for  King  and  Country 

Bade  us  win  the  field,  or  fall  ! 

ft 

On  the  heights  of  Killiecrankie 
Yester-morn  our  army  lay  : 

Slowly  rose  the  mist  in  columns 
From  the  river's  broken  way  ; 


THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE  73 

Hoarsely  roared  the  swollen  torrent, 

And  the  Pass  was  wrapt  in  gloom, 
When  the 'clansmen  rose  together 

From  their  lair  amidst  the  broom. 
Then  we  belted  on  our  tartans, 

And  our  bonnets  down  we  drew, 
And  we  felt  our  broadswords'  edges, 

And  we  proved  them  to  be  true ; 
And  we  prayed  the  prayer  of  soldiers, 

And  we  cried  the  gathering-cry, 
And  we  clasped  the  hands  of  kinsmen, 

And  we  swore  to  do  or  die  ; 
Then  our  leader  rode  before  us 

On  his  war-horse  black  as  night — 
Well  the  Cameronian  rebels 

Knew  that  charger  in  the  fight ! — 
And  a  cry  of  exultation 

From  the  bearded  warriors  rose  ; 
For  we  loved  the  house  of  Claver'se, 

And  we  thought  of  good  Montrose. 
But  he  raised  his  hand  for  silence — 

"  Soldiers  !  I  have  sworn  a  vow  : 
Ere  the  evening  star  shall  glisten 

On  Schehallion's  lofty  brow, 
Either  we  shall  rest  in  triumph, 

Or  another  of --the  Graemes 
Shall  have  died  in  battle-harness 

For  his  country  and  King  James  ! 
Think  upon  the  Royal  Martyr- 
Think  of  what  his  race  endure — 
Think  of  him  whom  butchers  murdered 

On  the  field  of  Magus  Muir  : — 


74        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

By  his  sacred  blood  I  charge  ye, 

By  the  ruined  hearth  and  shrine — 
By  the  blighted  hopes  of  Scotland, 

By  your  injuries  and  mine — 
Strike  this  day  as  if  the  anvil 

Lay  beneath  your  blows  the  while, 
Be  they  convenanting  traitors, 

Or  the  brood  of  false  Argyle  ! 
Strike  !  and  drive  the  trembling  rebels 

Backwards  o'er  the  stormy  Forth  ; 
Let  them  tell  their  pale  Convention 

How  they  fared  within  the  North. 
Let  them  tell  that  Highland  honor 

Is  not  to  be  bought  nor  sold, 
That  we  scorn  their  prince's  anger 

As  we  loathe  his  foreign  gold. 
Strike  !  and  when  the  fight  is  over, 

If  ye  look  in  vain  for  me, 
Where  the  dead  are  lying  thickest, 

Search  for  him  that  was  Dundee  !  " 

in. 
Loudly  then  the  hills  re-echoed 

With  our  answer  to  his  call, 
But  a  deeper  echo  sounded 

In  the  bosoms  of  us  all. 
For  the  lands  of  wide  Breadalbane, 

Not  a  man  who  heard  him  speak 
Would  that  day  have  left  the  battle. 

Burning  eye  and  flushing  cheek 
Told  the  clansmen's  fierce  emotion, 

And  they  harder  drew  their  breath  : 
And  their  souls  were  strong  within  them, 

Stronger  than  the  grasp  of  death. 


THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE.          75 

Soon  we  heard  a  challenge-trumpet 

Sounding  in  the  Pass  below, 
And  the  distant  tramp  of  horses, 

And  the  voices  of  the  foe : 
Down  we  crouched  amid  the  bracken, 

Till  the  Lowland  ranks  drew  near, 
Panting  like  the  hounds  in  summer, 

When  they  scent  the  stately  deer. 
From"  the  dark  defile  emerging, 

Next  we  saw  the  squadrons  come, 
Leslie's  foot  and  Leven's  troopers 

Marching  to  the  tuck  of  drum  ; 
Through  the  scattered  wood  of  birches, 

O'er  the  broken  ground  and  heath, 
Wound  the  long  battalion  slowly, 

Till  they  gained  the  plain  beneath  ; 
Then  we  bounded  from  our  covert — 

Judge  how  looked  the  Saxons  then, 
When  they  saw  the  rugged  mountain 

Start  to  life  with  armed  men ! 
Like  a  tempest  down  the  ridges 

Swept  the  hurricane  of  steel, 
Rose  the  slogan  of  Macdonald — 

Flashed  the  broadsword  of  Locheill ! 
Vainly  sped  the  withering  volley 

'Mongst  the  foremost  of  our  band — 
On  we  poured  until  we  met  them, 

Foot  to  foot,  and  hand  to  hand. 
Horse  and  man  went  down  like  drift-wood 

When  the  floods  are  black  at  Yule, 
And  their  carcasses  are  whirling 

In  the  Garry's  deepest  pool. 


76        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

Horse  and  man  went  down  before  us — 
Living  foe  there  tarried  none 

On  the  field  of  Killiecrankie, 

When  that  stubborn  fight  was  done ! 

IV. 

And  the  evening  star  was  shining 

On  Schehallion's  distant  head, 
When  we  wiped  our  bloody  broadswords, 

And  returned  to  count  the  dead. 
There  we  found  him  gashed  and  gory, 

Stretched  upon  the  cumbered  plain, 
As  he  told  us  where  to  seek  him, 

In  the  thickest  of  the  slain. 
And  a  smile  was  on  his  visage, 

For  within  his  dying  ear 
Pealed  the  joyful  note  of  triumph, 

And  the  clansman's  clamorous  cheer  ; 
So  amidst  the  battle's  thunder, 

Shot,  and  steel,  and  scorching  flame, 
In  the  glory  of  his  manhood 

Passed  the  spirit  of  the  Graeme ! 

v. 

Open  wide  the  vaults  of  Atholl, 

Where  the  bones  of  heroes  rest — 
Open  wide  the  hallowed  portals 

To  receive  another  guest! 
Last  of  Scots  and  last  of  freemen — 

Last  of  all  the  dauntless  race, 
Who  would  rather  die  unsullied 

Than  outlive  the  land's  disgrace ! 


THE  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE, 

O  thou  lion-hearted  warrior  ! 

Reck  not  of  the  after-time  : 
Honor  may  be  deemed  dishonor, 

Loyalty  be  called  a  crime. 
Sleep  in  peace  with  kindred  ashes 

Of  the  noble  and  the  true, 
Hands  that  never  failed  their  country, 

Hearts  that  never  baseness  knew. 
Sleep  ! — and  till  the  latest  trumpet 

Wakes  the  dead  from  earth  and  sea, 
Scotland  shall  not  boast  a  braver 

Chieftain  than  our  own  Dundee  ! 


THE  WIDOW  OF  GLENCOE. 


THE  Massacre  of  Glencoe  is  an  event  which  neither  can 
nor  ought  to  be  forgotten.  It  was  a  deed  of  the  worst 
treason  and  cruelty — a  barbarous  infraction  of  all  laws, 
human  and  divine  •  and  it  exhibits  in  their  foulest  perfidy 
the  true  characters  of  the  authors  and  abettors  of  the 
Revolution. 

After  the  battle  of  Killiecrankie  the  cause  of  the  Scot- 
tish royalists  declined,  rather  from  the  want  of  a  competent 
leader  than  from  any  disinclination  on  the  part  of  a  large 
section  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  to  vindicate  the  right  of 
King  James.  No  person  of  adequate  talents  or  authority 
was  found  to  supply  the  place  of  the  great  and  gal- 
lant Lord  Dundee ;  for  General  Cannon,  who  succeeded  in 
command,  was  not  only  deficient  in  military  skill,  but  did 
not  possess  the  confidence,  nor  understand  the  character  of 
the  Highland  chiefs,  who,  with  their  clansmen,  constituted 
by  far  the  most  important  section  of  the  army.  Accord- 
ingly no  enterprise  of  any  importance  was  attempted  ;  and 
the  disastrous  issue  of  the  battle  of  the  Boyne  led  to  a 
negotiation  which  terminated  in  the  entire  disbanding  of 
the  royal  forces.  By  this  treaty,  which  was  expressly  sane- 


THE  WIDOW  OF  GLENCOE.  79 

tioned  by  William  of  Orange,  a  full  and  unreserved  indem- 
nity and  pardon  was  granted  to  all  of  the  Highlanders  who 
had  taken  arms,  with  a  proviso  that  they  should  first  sub- 
scribe the  oath  of  allegiance  to  William  and  Mary,  before 
the  ist  of  January,  1692,  in  presence  of  the  Lords  of  the 
Scottish  Council,  "  or  of  the  sheriffs  or  their  deputies  of  the 
respective  shires  wherein  they  lived."  The  letter  of  Wil- 
liam addressed  to  the  Privy  Council,  and  ordering  proc- 
lamation to  be  made  to  the  above  effect,  contained  also 
the  following  significant  passage  : — "  That  ye  communicate 
our  pleasure  to  the  Governor  of  Inverlochy,  and  other  com- 
manders,- that  they  be  exact  and  diligent  in  their  several 
posts  ;  but  that  they  show  no  more  zeal  against  the  High- 
landers after  their  submission,  than  they  have  ever  done 
formerly  when  these  were  in  open  rebellion" 

This  enigmatical  sentence,  which  in  reality  was  intended, 
as  the  sequel  will  sjiow,  to  be  interpreted  in  the  most 
cruel  manner,  appears  to  have  caused  some  perplexity  in 
the  Council,  as  that  body  deemed  it  necessary  to  apply 
for  more  distinct  and  specific  instructions,  which,  however, 
were  not  then  issued.  It  had  been  especially  stipulated 
by  the  chiefs,  as  an  indispensable  preliminary  to  their 
treaty,  that  they  should  have  leave  to  communicate  with 
King  James,  then  residing  at  St.  Germains,  for  the  purpose 
of  obtaining  his  permission  and  warrant  previous  to  sub- 
mitting themselves  to  the  existing  government.  That 
article  had  been  sanctioned  by  William  before  the  procla- 
mation was  issued,  and  a  special  messenger  was  despatched 
to  France  for  that  purpose. 

In  the  mean  time,  troops  were  gradually  and  cautiously 
advanced  to  the  confines  of  the  Highlands,  and,  in  some 
instances,  actually  quartered  on  the  inhabitants.  The  con- 
dition of  the  country  was  perfectly  tranquil.  No  disturb- 
ances whatever  occurred  in  the  north  or  west  of  Scotland  ; 
Locheill  and  the  other  chiefs  were  awaiting:  the  communi- 


go         LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

cation  from  St.  Germains,  and  held  themselves  oound  in 
honor  to  remain  inactive  ;  whilst  the  remainder  of  the 
royalist  forces  (for  whom  separate  terms  had  been  made) 
were  left  unmolested  at  Dunkeld. 

But  rumors,  which  are  too  clearly  traceable  to  the  emis- 
saries of  the  new  Government,  asserting  the  preparation 
made  for  an  immediate  landing  of  King  James  at  the  head 
of  a  large  body  of  the  French,  were  industriously  circulated 
and  by  many  were  implicitly  believed.  The  infamous 
policy  which  dictated  such  a  course  is  now  apparent.  The 
term  of  the  amnesty  or  truce  granted  by  the  proclamation 
expired  with  the  year  1691,  and  all  who  had  not  taken  the 
oath  of  allegiance  before  that  term  were  to  be  proceeded 
against  with  the  utmost  severity.  The  proclamation  was 
issued  upon  the_  2Qth  of  August ;  consequently,  only  four 
months  were  allowed  for  the  complete  submission  of  the 
Highlanders. 

Not  one  of  the  chiefs  subscribed  until  the  mandate  from 
King  James  arrived.  That  document,  which  is  dated  from 
St.  Germains  on  the  i2th  of  December,  1691,  reached 
Dunkeld  eleven  days  afterwards,  and  consequently,  but  a 
very  short  time  before  the  indemnity  expired.  The  bearer, 
Major  Menzies,  was  .so  fatigued  that  he  could  proceed  no 
farther  on  his  journey,  but  forwarded  the  mandate  by  an 
express  to  the  commander  of  the  royal  forces,  who  was 
then  at  Glengarry.  It  was  therefore  impossible  that  the 
document  could  be  circulated  through  the  Highlands  within 
the  prescribed  period.  Locheill,  says  Drummond  of  Bal- 
haldy,  did  not  receive  his  copy  till  about  thirty  hours  be- 
fore the  time  was  out,  and  appeared  before  the  sheriff  at 
Inverara,  where  he  took  the  oaths  upon  the  very  day  on 
which  the  indemnity  expired. 

That  a  general  massacre  throughout  the  Highlands  was 
contemplated  by  the  Whig  Government  is  a  fact  establish- 
ment by  overwhelming  evidence.  In  the  course  of  the  sub- 


THE  WIDOW  OF  GLENCOE.  81 

sequent  investigation  before  the  Scots  Parliament,  letters 
were  produced  from  Sir  John  Dalrymple,  then  Master  of 
Stair,  one  of  the  secretaries  of  state  in  attendance  upon 
the  Court,  which  too  clearly  indicate  the  intentions  of 
William.  In  one  of  these,  dated  ist  December,  1691, — a 
month,  be  it  observed,  before  the  amnesty  expired, — and 
addressed  to  Lieutenant-Colonel  Hamilton,  there  are  the 
following  words :  "  The  winter  is  the  only  season  in  which 
we  are  sure  the  Highlanders  cannot  escape  us  nor  carry 
their  wives,  bairns,  and  cattle  to  the  mountains."  And  in 
another  letter,  written  only  two  days  afterwards,  he  says, 
"  It  is  the  only  time  that  they  cannot  escape  you,  for  human 
constitution  cannot  endure  to  be  long  out  of  houses.  This 
is  a  proper  season  to  maulethem  in  the  cold  long  nights."  And 
in  January,  thereafter,  he  informed  Sir  Thomas  Livingston 
that  the  design  was  "  to  destroy  entirely  the  country  of 
Lochaber,  Locheill's  lands,  Keppoch's;  Glengarry's,  Appin, 
and  Glencoe.  "  I  assure  you,"  he  continues,  "  your  power 
shall  be  full  enough,  and  I  hope  the  soldiers  will  not  trouble 
the  Government  with  prisoners" 

Locheill  was  more  fortunate  than  others  of  his  friends 
and  neighbors.  According  to  Drummond,  —  "  Major 
Menzies,  who,  upon  his  arrival,  had  observed  the  whole 
forces  of  the  kingdom  ready  to  invade  the  Highlands,  as 
he  wrote  to  General  Buchan,  foreseeing  the  unhappy  con- 
sequences, not  only  begged  that  general  to  send  expresses 
to  all  parts  with  orders  immediately  to  submit,  but  also 
wrote  to  Sir  Thomas  Livingston,  praying  him  to  supplicate 
the  Council  for  a  prorogation  of  the  time,  in  regard  that 
he  was  so  excessively  fatigued,  that  he  was  obliged  to  stop 
some  days  to  repose  a  little  ;  and  that  though  he  should 
send  expresses,  yet  it  was  impossible  they  could  reach  the 
distant  parts  in  such  time  as  to  allow  the  several  persons 
concerned  the  benefit  of  the  indemnity  within  the  space 
limited ;  besides,  that  some  persons  having  put  the  High- 


82        DA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

landers  in  a  bad  temper,  he  was  confident  to  persuade 
them  to  submit,  if  a  further  time  were  allowed.  Sir  Thomas 
presented  this  letter  to  the  Council  on  the  5th  of  January, 
1692,  but  they  refused  to  give  any  answer,  and  ordered  him 
to  transmit  the  same  to  Court," 

The  reply  of  William  of  Orange  was  a  letter,  counter- 
signed by  Dalrymple,  in  which,  upon  the  recital  that 
"  several  of  the  chieftains  and  many  of  their  clans  have  not 
taken  the  benefit  of  our  gracious  indemnity,"  he  gave  orders 
for  a  general  massacre.  "  To  the  end,  we  have  given  Sir 
Thomas  Livingston  orders  to  employ  our  troops  (which  we 
have  already  conveniently  posted)  to  cut  off  these  obsti- 
nate rebels  by  all  manner  of  hostility  ;  and  we  do  require 
you  to  give  him  your  assistance  and  concurrence  in  all 
other  things  that  may  conduce  to  that  service ;  and  because 
these  rebels,  to  avoid  our  forces,  may  draw  themselves, 
their  families,  goods,*  or  cattle,  to  lurk  or  be  concealed 
among  their  neighbors  ;  therefore  we  require  and  author- 
ize you  to  emit  a  proclamation,  to  be  published  at  the 
market-crosses  of  these  or  the  adjacent  shires  where  the 
rebels  reside,  discharging  upon  the  highest  penalties  the 
law  allows,  any  reset,  correspondence,  or  intercommuning 
with  these  rebels."  This  monstrous  mandate,  which  was  in 
fact  the  death-warrant  of  many  thousand  innocent  people, 
no  distinction  being  made  of  age  or  sex,  would,  in  all 
human  probability,  have  been  put  into  execution,  but  for 
the  remonstrance  of  one  high-minded  nobleman.  Lord 
Carmarthen,  afterwards  Duke  of  Leeds,  accidentally  be- 
came aware  of  the  proposed  massacre,  and  personally  re- 
monstrated with  the  monarch  against  a  measure  which  he 
denounced  as  at  once  cruel  and  impolitic.  After  much 
discussion,  William,  influenced  rather  by  an  apprehension 
that  so  savage  and  sweeping  an  act  might  prove  fatal  to 
his  new  authority,  than  by  any  compunction  or  impulse  of 
humanity,  agreed  to  recall  the  general  order,  and  to  limit 


THE  WIDOW  OF  GLENCOE.  83 

himself,  in  the  first  instance,  to  a  single  deed  of  butchery 
by  way  of  testing  the  temper  of  the  nation.  Some  diffi- 
culty seems  to  have  arisen  in  the  selection  of  the  fittest 
victim.  Both  Keppoch  and  Glencoe  were  named,  but  the 
personal  rancor  of  Secretary  Dalrymple  decided  the  doom 
of  the  latter.  The  secretary  wrote  thus  : — "  Argyle  tells 
me  that  Glencoe  hath  not  taken  the  oath,  at  which  2  rejoice. 
It  is  a  great  work  of  charity  to  be  exact  in  rooting  out  that 
damnable  set."  The  final  instructions  regarding  Glencoe, 
which  were  issued  on  i6th  January,  1692,  are  as  fellows  : — 

"  WILLIAM  R. — As  for  M'lan  of  Glencoe  and  that  tribe,  if  they  can 
be  well  distinguished  from  the  rest  of  the  Highlanders,  it  will  be  prop- 
er for  public  justice  to  extirpate  that  set  of  thieves. 

"  W.  R." 

This  letter  is  remarkable  as  being  signed  and  counter- 
signed by  William  alone,  contrary  to  the  usual  practice. 
The  secretary  was  no  doubt  desirous  to  screen  himself  from 
after  responsibility,  and  was  besides  aware  that  the  royal 
signature  would  insure  a  rigorous  execution  of  the  sen- 
tence. 

Macdonald,  or,  as  he  was  more  commonly  designated, 
M'lan  of  Glencoe,  was  the  head  of  a  considerable  sept  or 
branch  of  the  great  Clan-Coila,  and  was  lineally  descended 
from  the  ancient  Lords  of  the  Isles,  and  from  the  royal 
family  of  Scotland — the  common  ancestor  of  the  Macdon- 
alds  having  espoused  a  daughter  of  Robert  II.  He  was, 
according  to  a  contemporary  testimony,  "  a  person  of  great 
integrity,  honor,  good-nature,  and  courage  :  and  his  loy- 
alty to  his  old  master,  King  James,  was  such,  that  he 
continued  in  arms  from  Dundee's  first  appearing  in  the 
Highlands,  till  the  fatal  treaty  that  brought  on  his  ruin." 
In  common  with  the  other  chiefs,  he  had  omitted  taking 
the  benefit  of  the  indemnity  until  he  received  the  sanction 


84        LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH   CAVALIERS. 

of  King  James  ;  but  the  copy  of  that  document  which  was 
forwarded  to  him,  unfortunately  arrived  too  late.  The 
weather  was  so  excessively  stormy  at  the  time  that  there 
was  no  possibility  of  penetrating  from  Glencoe  to  Inverara, 
the  place  where  the  sheriff  resided,  before  the  expiry  of  the 
stated  period ;  and  MMan  accordingly  adopted  the  only 
practicable  mode  of  signifying  his  submission,  by  making 
his  way  with  great  difficulty  to  Fort  William,  then  called 
Inverlochy,  and  tendering  his  signature  to  the  military 
Governor  there.  That  officer  was  not  authorized  to  receive 
it,  but,  at  the  earnest  entreaty  of  the  chief,  he  gave  him  a 
certificate  of  his  appearance  and  tender ;  and  on  New- 
Year's  day,  1692,  M'lan  reached  Inverara,  where  he  pro- 
duced that  paper  as  evidence  of  his  intentions,  and  prevailed 
upon  the  sheriff,  Sir  James  Campbell,  of  Ardkinglass,  to 
administer  the  oaths  required.  After  that  ceremony,  which 
was  immediately  intimated  to  the  Privy  Council,  had  been 
performed,  the  unfortunate  gentleman  returned  home,  in 
the  full  conviction  that  he  had  thereby  made  peace  with 
the  Government  for  himself  and  for  his  clan.  But  his  doom 
was  already  sealed. 

A  company  of  the  Earl  of  Argyle's  regiment  had  been 
previously  quartered  at  Glencoe.  These  men,  though 
Campbells,  and  hereditarily  obnoxious  to  the  Macdonalds, 
Camerons,  and  other  of  the  loyal  clans,  were  yet  country- 
men, and  were  kindly  and  hospitably  received.  Their  cap- 
tain, Robert  Campbell,  of  Glenlyon,  was  connected  with 
the  family  of  Glencoe  through  the  marriage  of  a  niece,  and 
was  resident  under  the  roof  of  the  chief.  And  yet  this 
was  the  very  troop  selected  for  the  horrid  service. 

Special  instructions  were  sent  to  the  major  of  the  regiment, 
one  Duncanson,  then  quartered  at  Ballachulish, — a  morose, 
brutal,  and  savage  man, — who  accordingly  wrote  to  Camp, 
hell,  of  Glenlyon,  in  the  following  terms  : — 


THE  WIDOW  OF  GLENCOE.  85 

"  BALLACHOLIS,  12  Feb.,  1692. 

"  SIR, — You  are  hereby  ordered  to  fall  upon  the  rebels,  the  M'Don- 
alds  of  Glencoe,  and  putt  all  to  the  sword  under  seventy.  You  are  to 
have  special  care  that  the  old  fox  and  his  sons  doe  upon  no  account 
escape  your  hands.  You  are  to  secure  all  the  avenues,  that  no  man 
escape.  This  you  are  to  put  in  execution  att  five  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing precisely,  and  by  that  time,  or  very  shortly  after  it,  I'll  strive  to 
be  att  you  with  a  stronger  party.  If  I  doe  not  come  to  you  att  five,  you 
are  not  to  tarry  for  me,  but  to  fall  on.  This  is  by  the  king's  special} 
command,  for  the  good  and  safety  of  the  country,  that  these  miscreants 
be  cutt  off  root  and  branch.  See  that  this  be  putt  in  execution  without 
feud  or  favour,  else  you  may  expect  to  be  treated  as  not  true  to  the 
king's  government,  nor  a  man  fitt  to  carry  a  commission  in  the  king's 
service.  Expecting  you  will  not  faill  in  the  fulfilling  hereof  as  you 
love  yourself,  I  subscribe  these  with  my  hand. 

"  ROBERT  DUNCANSON. 
"  For  their  Majesty's  service, 
"  To  Captain  Robert  Campbe'l,  of  Glenlyon" 

This  order  was  but  too  literally  obeyed.  At  the  appoint- 
ed hour,  when  the  whole  inhabitants  of  the  glen  were 
asleep,  the  work  of  murder  began.  M'lan  was  one  of  the 
first  who  fell.  Drummond's  narrative  fills  up  the  remain- 
der of  the  dreadful  story. 

"  They  then  served  all  within  the  family  in  the  same 
manner,  without  distinction  of  age  or  person.  In  a  word, 
— for  the  horror  of  that  execrable  butchery  must  give  pain 
to  the  reader, — they  left  none  alive  but  a  young  child,  who 
being  frightened  with  the  noise  of  the  guns,  and  the  dismal 
shrieks  and  cries  of  its  dying  parents,  whom  they  were  a- 
murdering,  got  hold  of  Captain  Campbell's  knees,  and  wrapt 
itself  within  his  cloak  ;  by  which,  chancing  to  move  com- 
passion, the  captain  inclined  to  have  saved  it,  but  one 
Drummond,  an  officer,  arriving  about  the  break  of  day 
with  more  troops,  commanded  it  to  be  shot  by  a  file  of 
musqueteers.  Nothing  could  be  more  shocking  and  horri- 
ble than  the  prospect  of  these  houses  bestrewed  with  man- 
gled bodies  of  the  dead,  covered  with  blood,  and  resound- 
ing with  the  groans  of  wretches  in  the  last  agonies  of  life. 


86         LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

"Two  sons  of  Glencoe's  were  the  only  persons  that 
escaped  in  that  quarter  of  the  country  ;  for,  growing  jealous 
of  some  ill  designs  from  the  behavior  of  the  soldiers,  they 
stole  from  their  beds  a  few  minutes  before  the  tragedy 
began,  and,  chancing  to  overhear  two  of  them  discoursing 
plainly  of  the  matter,  they  endeavored  to  have  advertised 
their  father ;  but  rinding  that  impracticable,  they  ran  to 
the  other  end  of  the  country  and  alarmed  the  inhabitants. 
There  was  another  accident  that  contributed  much  to  their 
safety  ;  for  the  night  was  so  excessively  stormy  and  tem- 
pestuous, that  four  hundred  soldiers,  who  were  appointed 
to  murder  those  people,  were  stopped  in  their  march  from 
Inverlochy,  and  could  not  get  up  till  they  had  time  to  save 
themselves.  To  cover  the  deformity  of  so  dreadful  a  sight, 
the  soldiers  burned  all  the  houses  to  the  ground,  after  hav- 
ing rifled  them,  carried  away  nine  hundred  cows,  two  hun- 
dred horses,  numberless  herds  of  sheep  and  goats,  and 
everything  else  that  belonged  to  these  miserable  people. 
Lamentable  was  the  case  of  the  women  and  children  that 
escaped  the  butchery  :  the  mountains  were  covered  with  a 
deep  snow,  the  rivers  impassable,  storm  and  tempest  filled 
the  air  and  added  to  the  horrors  and  darkness  of  the 
night,  and  there  were  no  houses  to  shelter  them  within  many 
miles."* 

Such  was  the  awful  massacre  of  Glencoe,  an  event  which 
has  left  an  indelible  and  execrable  stain  upon  the  memory  of 
William  of  Orange.  The  records  of  Indian  warfare  can 
hardlyafford  a  parallel  instance  of  atrocity  ;  and  this  deed, 
coupled  with  his  deliberate  treachery  in  the  Darien  scheme, 
whereby  Scotland  was  for  a  time  absolutely  ruined,  is 
sufficient  to  account  for  the  little  estimation  in  which  the 
name  of  the  "  great  Whig  deliverer "  is  still  regarded  in 
the  valleys  of  the  North. 

*  Memoirs  of  Sir  Ewen  Cameron  LochttL 


THE  WIDOW  OF  GLENCOE. 


Do  not  lift  him  from  the  bracken, 

Leave  him  lying  where  he  fell — 
Better  bier  ye  cannot  fashion  : 

None  beseems  him  half  so  well 
As  the  bare  and  broken  heather, 

And  the  hard  and  trampled  sod, 
Whence  his  angry  soul  ascended 

To  the  judgment-seat  of  God ! 
Winding-sheet  we  cannot  give  him — 

Seek  no  mantle  for  the  dead, 
Save  the  cold  and  spotless  covering 

Showered  from  heaven  upon  his  head. 
Leave  his  broadsword  as  we  found  it, 

Bent  and  broken  with  the  blow, 
Which,  before  he  died,  avenged  him 

On  the  foremost  of  the  foe. 
Leave  the  blood  upon  his  bosom — 

Wash  not  off  that  sacred  stain  ; 
Let  it  stiffen  on  the  tartan, 

Let  his  wounds  unclosed  remain, 


88        LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

Till  the  day  when  he  shall  show  them 

At  the  throne  of  God  on  high, 
When  the  murderer  and  the  murdered 

Meet  before  their  Judge's  eye  ! 

ii. 
Nay,  ye  should  not  weep,  my  children  i 

Leave  it  to  the  faint  and  weak  ; 
Sobs  are  but  a  women's  weapon — 

Tears  befit  a  maiden's  cheek. 
Weep  not,  children  of  Macdonald  ! 

Weep  not  thou,  his  orphan  heir — 
Not  in  shame,  but  stainless  honor, 

Lies  thy  slaughtered  father  there. 
Weep  not — but  when  years  are  over, 

And  thine  arm  is  strong  and  sure, 
And  thy  foot  is  swift  and  steady 

On  the  mountain  and  the  muir — 
Let  thy  heart  be  hard  as  iron, 

And  thy  wrath  as  fierce  as  fire, 
Till  the  hour  when  vengeance  cometh 

For  the  race  that  slew  thy  sire  ! 
Till  in  deep  and  dark  Glenlyon 

Rise  a  louder  shriek  of  woe, 
Than  at  midnight,  from  their  eyrie, 

Scared  the  eagles  of  Glencoe  : 
Louder  than  the  screams  that  mingled 

With  the  howling  of  the  blast, 
When  the  murderer's  steel  was  clashing, 

And  the  fires  were  rising  fast ; 
When  the  noble  father  bounded 

To  the  rescue  of  his  men, 
And  the  slogan  of  our  kindred 

Pealed  thoughout  the  startled  glen ! 


THE  WIDOW  OF  GLENCOE.  89 

When  the  herd  of  frantic  women 

Stumbled  through  the  midnight  snow, 
With  their  fathers'  houses  blazing, 

And  their  dearest  dead  below ! 
Oh,  the  horror  of  the  tempest, 

As  the  flashing  drift  was  blown, 
Crimsoned  with  the  conflagration, 

And  the  roofs  went  thundering  down ! 
Oh,  the  prayers — the  prayers  and  curses 

That  together  winged  their  flight 
From  the  maddened  hearts  of  many 

Through  that  long  and  woful  night ! 
Till  the  fires  began  to  dwindle, 

And  the  shots  grew  faint  and  few, 
And  we  heard  the  foeman's  challenge 

Only  in  a  far  halloo  : 
Till  the  silence  once  more  settled 

O'er  the  gorges  of  the  glen, 
Broken  only  by  the  Cona 

Plunging  through  its  naked  den. 
Slowly  from  the  mountain-summit 

Was  the  drifting  veil  withdrawn, 
And  the  ghastly  valley  glimmered 

In  the  grey  December  dawn. 
Better  had  the  morning  never 

Dawned  upon  our  dark  despair ! 
Black  amidst  the  common  whiteness 

Rose  the  spectral  ruins  there : 
But  the  sight  of  these  was  nothing 

More  than  wrings  the  wild-dove's  breast, 
When  she  searches  for  her  offspring 

Round  the  relics  of  her  nest. 


90         LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

For  in  many  a  spot  the  tartan 

Peered  above  the  wintry  heap, 
Marking  where  a  dead  Macdonald 

Lay  within  his  frozen  sleep. 
Tremblingly  we  scooped  the  covering 

From  each  kindred  victim's  head, 
And  the  living  lips  were  burning 

On  the  cold  ones  of  the  dead, 
And  I  left  them  with  their  dearest — 

Dearest  charge  had  every  one — 
Left  the  maiden  with  her  lover, 

Left  the  mother  with  her  son. 
I  alone  of  all  was  mateless — 

Far  more  wretched  I  than  they, 
For  the  snow  would  not  discover 

Where  my  lord  and  husband  lay. 
But  I  wandered  up  the  valley, 

Till  I  found  him  lying  low, 
With  the  gash  upon  his  bosom 

And  the  frown  upon  his  brow — 
Till  I  found  him  lying  murdered, 

Where  he  wooed  me  long  ago ! 

in. 

Women's  weakness  shall  not  shame  me— 

Why  should  I  have  tears  to  shed  ? 
Could  I  rain  them  down  like  water, 

Oh  my  hero !  on  thy  head — 
Could  the  cry  of  lamentation 

Wake  thee  from  thy  silent  sleep 
Could  it  set  thy  heart  a-throbbing 

It  were  mine  to  wail  and  weep  ! 


THE  WIDOW  OF  GLENCOE.  91 

But  I  will  not  waste  my  sorrow, 

Lest  the  Campbell  women  say 
That  the  daughters  of  Clanranald 

Are  as  weak  and  frail  as  they. 
I  had  wept  thee  hadst  thou  fallen, 

Like  our  fathers,  on  thy  shield, 
When  a  host  of  English  foemen 

Camped  upon  a  Scottish  field — 
I  had  mourned  thee,  hadst  thou  perished 

With  the  foremost  of  his  name, 
When  the  valiant  and  the  noble 

Died  around  the  dauntless  Graeme! 
But  I  will  not  wrong  thee,  husband ! 

With  my  unavailing  cries, 
Whilst  thy  cold  and  mangled  body 

Stricken  by  the  traitor  lies ; 
Whilst  he  counts  the  gold  and  glory 

That  this  hideous  night  has  won, 
And  his  heart  is  big  with  triumph 

At  the  murder  he  has  done. 
Other  eyes  than  mine  shall  glisten, 

Other  hearts  be  rent  in  twain, 
Ere  the  heathbells  on  thy  hillock 

Wither  in  the  autumn  rain 
Then  I'll  seek  thee  where  thou  sleepest, 

And  I'll  veil  my  weary  head, 
Praying  for  a  place  beside  thee, 

Dearer  than  my  bridal  bed  : 
And  I'll  give  thee  tears,  my  husband  ! 

If  the  tears  remain  to  me, 
When  the  widows  of  the  foeman 

Cry  the  coronach  for  thee ! 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS. 


IN  consequence  of  a  capitulation  with  Government,  the 
regular  troops  who  had  served  under  Lord  Dundee  were 
conveyed  to  France  ;  and,  immediately  upon  their  landing, 
the  officers  and  others  had  their  rank  confirmed  according 
the  tenor  of  the  commissions  and  characters  which  they 
bore  in  Scotland.  They  were  distributed  throughout  the 
different  garrisons  in  the  north  of  France,  and,  though 
nominally  in  the  service  of  King  James,  derived  their 
whole  means  of  subsistence  from  the  bounty  of  the  French 
monarch.  So  long  as  it  appeared  probable  that  another 
descent  was  meditated,  these  gentlemen,  who  were,  almost 
without  exception,  men  of  considerable  family,  assented  to 
this  arrangement ;  but  the  destruction  of  the  French  fleet 
under  Admiral  Tourville,  off  La  Hogue,  led  to  a  material 
change  in  their  views.  After  that  naval  engagement  it 
became  obvious  that  the  cause  of  the  fugitive  king  was  in 
the  mean  time  desperate,  and  the  Scottish  officers,  with  no 
less  gallantry  than  honor,  volunteered  a  sacrifice  which 
so  far  as  I  know,  has  hardly  been  equalled. 

The  old  and  interesting  pamphlet  written  by  one  of  the 
corps,*  from  which  I  have  extracted  most  of  the  following 

*  An  Account  of  Dundee's  Officers  after  they  went  to  France.  By  an 
officer  of  the  army.  London  :  1714. 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS.  93 

details,  but  which  is  seldom  perused  except  by  the  anti- 
quary, states  that  "  The  Scottish  officers  considering  that, 
by  the  loss  of  the  French  fleet,  King  James's  restoration 
would  be  retarded  for  some  time,  and  that  they  were  bur- 
densome to  the  King  of  France,  being  entertained  in  gar- 
risons on  whole  pay,  without  doing  duty,  when  he  had 
almost  all  Europe  in  confederacy  against  him,  therefore 
humbly  entreated  King  James  to  have  them  reduced  into 
a  company  of  private  sentinels,  and  chose  officers  amongst 
themselves  to  command  them ;  assuring  his  Majesty  that 
they  would  serve  in  the  meanest  circumstances,  and  under- 
go the  greatest  hardships  and  fatigues,  that  reason  could 
imagine  or  misfortunes  inflict,  until  it  pleased  God  to  re- 
store him.  King  James  commended  their  generosity  and 
loyalty,  but  disapproved  of  what  they  proposed,  and  told 
them  it  was  impossible  that  gentlemen,  who  had  served  in 
so  honorable  posts  as  formerly  they  had  enjoyed,  and  lived 
in  so  great  plenty  and  ease,  could  ever  undergo  the  fatigue 
and  hardships  of  private  sentinels'  duty.  Again,  that  his 
own  first  command  was  a  company  of  officers,  whereof 
several  died ;  others,  wearied  with  fatigue,  drew  their  dis- 
charges ;  till  at  last  it  dwindled  into  nothing,  and  he  got 
no  reputation  by  the  command  ;  therefore  he  desired  them 
to  insist  no  more  on  that  project.  The  -officers  (notwith- 
standing his  Majesty's  desire  to  the  contrary)  made  several 
interests  at  court,  and  harassed  him  so  much,  that  at  last 
he  condescended,"  and  appointed  those  who  were  to  com- 
mand them. 

Shortly  afterwards,  the  new  corps  was  reviewed  for  the 
first  and  last  time  by  the  unfortunate  James  in  the  gardens 
of  St.  Germains,  and  the  tears  are  said  to  have  gushed 
from  his  eyes  at  the  sight  of  so  many  brave  men,  reduced, 
through  their  disinterested  and  persevering  loyalty,  to  so 
very  humble  a  condition.  "  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  my 
own  misfortunes  are  not  so  nigh  my  heart  as  yours.  It 


94        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

grieves  me  beyond  what  I  can  express  to  see  so  many 
brave  and  worthy  gentlemen,  who  had  once  the  prospect 
of  being  the  chief  officers  in  my  army,  reduced  to  the  sta- 
tions of  private  sentinels.  Nothing  but  your  loyalty,  and 
that  of  a  few  of  my  subjects  in  Britain,  who  are  forced 
from  their  allegiance  by  the  Prince  of  Orange,  and  who,  I 
know,  will  be  ready  on  all  occasions  to  serve  me  and  my 
distressed  family,  could  make  me  willing  to  live.  The 
sense  of  what  all  of  you  have  done  and  undergone  for 
your  loyalty,  hath  made  so  deep  an  impression  upon  my 
heart,  that  if  it  ever  please  God  to  restore  me,  it  is  impos- 
sible I  can  be  forgetful  of  your  services  and  sufferings. 
Neither  can  there  be  any  posts  in  the  armies  of  my  domin- 
ions but  what  you  have  just  pretensions  to.  As  for  my 
son,  your  Prince,  he  is  of  your  own  blood,  a  child  capable 
of  any  impression,  and,  as  his  education  will  be  from  you, 
it  is  not  supposable  that  he  can  forget  your  merits.  At 
your  own  desires  you  are  now  going  a  long  march  far  dis- 
tant from  me.  Fear  God  and  love  one  another.  Write 
your  wants  particularly  to  me,  and  depend  upon  it  always 
to  find  me  your  parent  and  King."  The  scene  bore  a 
strong  resemblance  to  one  which  many  years  afterwards 
occurred  at  Fontainebleau.  The  company  listened  to  his 
words  with  deep  emotion,  gathered  round  him.  as  if  half 
repentant  of  their  own  desire  to  go  ;  and  so  parted,  for 
ever  on  trns  earth,  the  dethroned  monarch  and  his  exiled 
subjects. 

The  number  of  this  company  of  officers  was  about  one 
hundred  and  twenty  ;  their  destination  was  Perpignan,  in 
Roussillon,  close  upon  the  frontier  of  Spain,  where  they 
were  to  join  the  army  under  the  command  of  the  Mareschal 
de  Noailles.  Their  power  of  endurance,  though  often 
most  severely  tested  in  an  unwholesome  climate,  seems  to 
have  been  no  less  remarkable  than  their  gallantry,  which 
upon  many  occasions  called  forth  the  warm  acknowledg- 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS.  95 

ment  of  the  French  commanders.  " Le gentilhomme"  said 
one  of  the  generals,  in  acknowledgment  of  their  readiness 
at  a  peculiarly  critical  moment,  "  est  toujours  gentilhomme, 
et  se  montre  toujours  tel  dans  le  besoin  et  dans  le  danger" — a 
eulogy  as  applicable  to  them  as  it  was  in  later  clays  to  La 
Tour  d'Auvergne,  styled  the  first  grenadier  of  France.  At 
Perpignan  they  were  joined  by  two  other  Scottish  com- 
panies, and  the  three  seem  to  have  continued  to  serve 
together  for  several  campaigns. 

As  a  proof  of  the  estimation  in  which  they  were  held,  I 
shall  merely  extract  a  short  account  of  the  taking  of  Rosas, 
in  Catalonia,  before  referring  to  the  exploit  which  forms 
the  subject  of  the  following  ballad.  "  On  the  27th  of  May, 
the  company  of  officers,  and  other  Scottish  companies, 
were  joined  by  two  companies  of  Irish,  to  make  up  a  bat- 
talion in  order  to  mount  the  trenches  ;  and  the  major  part 
of  the  officers  enlisted  themselves  in  the  company  of  gren- 
adiers, under  the  command  of  the  brave  Major  Rutherford, 
who,  on  his  way  to  the  trenches,  in  sight  of  Mareschal  de 
Noailles  and  his  court,  marched  with  his  company  on  the 
side  of  the  trench,  which  exposed  him  to  the  fire  of  a  bas- 
tion, where  there  were  two  culverins  and  several  other 
guns  planted  ;  likewise  to  the  fire  of  two  curtins  lined  with 
small  shot.  Colonel  Brown,  following  with  the  battalion, 
was  obliged,  in  honor,  to  march  the  same  way  Major 
Rutherford  had  done  ;  the  danger  whereof  the  Mareschal 
immediately  perceiving,  ordered  one  of  his  aides-de-camp 
to  command  Rutherford  to  march  under  cover  of  the 
trench,  which  he  did  ;  and  if  he  had  but  delayed  six  min- 
utes, the  grenadiers  and  battalion  had  been  cut  to  pieces. 
Rutherford,  with  his  grenadiers,  marched  to  a  trench  near 
the  town,  and  the  battalion  to  a  trench  on  the  rear  and 
flank  of  the  grenadiers,  who  fired  so  incessantly  on  the  be- 
sieged, that  they  thought  (the  breach  being  practicable) 
thev  were  going  to  make  their  attacks,  immediately  beat  a 


96         LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

chamade,  and  were  willing  to  give  up  the  town  upon  rea- 
sonable terms ;  but  the  Mareschal's  demands  were  so  ex- 
orbitant that  the  Governor  could  not  agree  to  them.  Then 
firing  began  on  both  sides  to  be  very  hot ;  and  they  in  the 
town,  seeing  how  the  grenadiers  lay,  killed  eight  of  them. 
When  the  Governor  surrendered  the  town,  he  inquired  of 
the  Mareschal  what  countrymen  these  grenadiers  were; 
and  assured  him  ft  was  on  their  account  he  delivered  up 
the  town,  because  they  fired  so  hotly,  that  he  believed  they 
were  resolved  to  ?Ltack  the  breach.  He  answered,  smiling, 

*  Ce  sont  mes  enfans ' — '  They  are  my  children.'     Again  : 

*  They  are  the  King  of  Great  Britain's  Scottish  officers, 
who,  to  show  their  willingness  to  share  of  his   miseries, 
have  reduced  themselves   to   the  carrying  of    arms,  and 
chosen  to  serve  under  my  command.'    The  next  day,  when 
the  Mareschal  rode  along  the  front  of  the  camp,  he  halted 
at  the  company  of  the  officers'  piquet,  and  they  all  sur- 
rounded him.     Then,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  he  thanked 
them  for  their  services  in  the  trenches,  and  freely  acknowl- 
edged it  was  their  conduct  and  courage  which  compelled 
the  Governor  to  give  up  the  town  ;  and  assured  them  he 
would  acquaint  his  master  with  the  same,  which  he  did ; 
for  when  his  son  arrived  with  the  news  at  Versailles,  the 
King  having  read  the  letter,  immediately  took  coach  to  St. 
Germains,  and  when  he  had  shown  King  James  the  letter, 
he  thanked  him  for  the  services  his  subjects  had  done  in 
taking  Rosas,  in  Catalonia  ;  who,  with  concern,  replied, 
they  were  the  stock  of  his  British  officers,  and  that  he  was 
sorry  he  could  not  make  better  provision  for  them." 

And  a  miserable  provision  it  was  !  They  were  gradually 
compelled  to  part  with  every  remnant  of  the  property  which 
they  had  secured  from  the  ruins  of  their  fortunes ;  so  that 
when  they  arrived,  after  various  adventures,  at  Scelestadt, 
in  Alsace,  they  were  literally  without  the  common  means 
of  subsistence.  Famine  and  the  sword  had  by  this  time 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS.  97 

thinned  their  ranks,  but  had  not  diminished  their  spirit,  as 
the  following  narrative  of  their  last  exploit  will  show  : — 

"In  December,  1697,  General  Stirk,  who  commanded 
for  the  Germans,  appeared  with  16,000  men  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Rhine,  which  obliged  the  Marquis  de  Sell  to 
draw  out  all  the  garrisons  in  Alsace,  who  made  up  about 
4,000  men ;  and  he  encamped  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Rhine,  over  against  General  Stirk,  to  prevent  his  passing 
the  Rhine  and  carrying  a  bridge  over  into  an  island  in  the 
middle  of  it,  which  the  French  foresaw  would  be  of  grftat 
prejudice  to  them.  For  the  enemy's  guns,  placed  on  that 
island,  would  extremely  gall  their  camp,  which  they  could 
not  hinder  for  the  deepness  of  the  water,  and  their  wanting 
of  boats — for  which  the  Marquis  quickly  sent ;  but  arriving 
too  late,  the  Germans  had  carried  a  bridge  over  into  the 
island,  where  they  had  posted  above  500  men,  who,  by 
order  of  their  engineers,  intrenched  themselves  ;  which  the 
company  of  officers  perceiving,  who  always  grasped  after 
honor,  and  scorned  all  thoughts  of  danger,  resolved  to 
wade  the  river,  and  attack  the  Germans  in  the  island ;  and 
for  that  effect,  desired  Captain  John  Foster,  who  then  com- 
manded them,  to  beg  of  the  Marquis  that  they  might  have 
liberty  to  attack  the  Germans  in  the  island  ;  who  told  Cap- 
tain Foster,  when  the  boats  came  up,  that  they  should  be 
the  first  that  attacked.  Foster  courteously  thanked  the 
Marquis,  and  told  him  they  would  wade  into  the  island, 
who  shrunk  up  his  shoulders,  prayed  God  to  bless  them, 
and  desired  them  to  do  what  they  pleased."  Whereupon 
the  officers,  with  the  other  two  Scottish  companies,  made 
themselves  ready ;  and,  having  secured  their  arms  round 
their  necks,  waded  into  the  river  hand-in-hand,  "  according 
to  the  Highland  fashion,"  with  the  water  as  high  as  their 
breasts  ;  and,  having  crossed  the  heavy  stream,  fell  upon 
the  Germans  in  their  intrenchment.  These  were  presently 
thrown  into  confusion,  and  retreated,  breaking  down  their 


98        LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

own  bridges,  whilst  many  of  them  were  drowned.  This 
movement,  having  been  made  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening, 
partook  of  the  character  of  a  surprise ;  but  it  appears  to 
me  a  very  remarkable  one,  as  having  been  effected  under 
such  circumstances,  in  the  dead  of  winter,  and  in  the  face 
of  an  enemy  who  possessed  the  advantages  both  of  position 
and  of  numerical  superiority.  The  author  of  the  narrative 
adds: — "When  the  Marquis  de  Sell  heard  the  firing,  and 
understood  that  the  Germans  were  beat  out  of  the  island, 
he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  face  and  breast,  and 
declared  publicly  that  it  was  the  bravest  action  that  ever 
he  saw,  and  that  his  army  had  no  honor  by  it.  As  soon 
as  the  boats  came,  the  Marquis  sent  into  the  island  to 
acquaint  the  officers  that  he  would  send  them  both  troops 
and  provisions,  who  thanked  his  Excellency,  and  desired 
he  should  be  informed  that  they  wanted  no  troops,  and 
could  not  spare  time  to  make  use  of  provisions,  and  only 
desired  spades,  shovels,  and  pickaxes,  wherewith  they  might 
intrench  themselves — which  were  immediately  sent  to  them. 
The  next  morning,  the  Marquis  came  into  the  island,  and 
kindly  embraced  every  officer,  and  thanked  them  for  the 
good  service  they  had  done  his  master,  assuring  them  he 
would  write  a  true  account  of  their  honor  and  bravery  to 
the  Court  of  France,  which,  at  the  reading  his  letters,  im- 
mediately went  to  St.  Germains,  and  thanked  King  James 
for  the  services  his  subjects  had  done  on  the  Rhine." 

The  company  kept  possession  of  the  island  for  nearly 
six  weeks,  notwithstanding  repeated  attempts  on  the  part 
of  the  Germans  to  surprise  and  dislodge  them  ;  but  all 
these  having  been  defeated  by  the  extreme  watchfulness  of 
the  Scots,  General  Stirk  at  length  drew  off  his  army,  and 
retreated.  "  In  consequence  of  this  action,"  says  the 
Chronicler,  "  that  island  is  called  at  present  Isle  d'Ecosse, 
and  will  in  likelihood  bear  that  name  until  the  general 
conflagration." 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS.  99 

Two  years  afterward,  a  treaty  of  peace  was  concluded  j 
and  this  gallant  company  of  soldiers,  worthy  of  a  better 
fate,  was  broken  up  and  dispersed.  At  the  time  when  the 
narrative  from  which  I  have  quoted  so  freely  was  com- 
piled, not  more  than  sixteen  of  Dundee's  veterans  were 
alive.  The  author  concludes  thus  :  "  And  thus  was  dis- 
solved one  of  the  best  companies  that  ever  inarched  under 
command !  Gentlemen,  who,  in  the  midst  of  all  their 
pressures  and  obscurity,  never  forgot  they  were  gentlemen  ; 
and  whom  the  sweets  of  a  brave,  a  just,  and  honorable 
conscience  rendered  perhaps  more  happy  under  those  suf- 
ferings than  the  most  prosperous  and  triumphant  in  in- 
iquity, since  our  minds  stamp  our  happiness." 

Some  years  ago,  while  visiting  the  ancient  Scottish  con- 
vent at  Ratisbone,  my  attention  was  drawn  to  the  monu- 
mental inscriptions  on  the  walls  of  the  dormitory,  many  of 
which  bear  reference  to  gentlemen  of  family  and  distinc- 
tion, whose  political  principles  had  involved  them  in  the 
troubles  of  1688,  1715,  and  1745.  Whether  the  cloister 
which  now  holds  their  dust  had  afforded  them  a  shelter  in 
the  latter  years  of  their  misfortunes,  I  know  not ;  but,  for 
one  that  is  so  commemorated,  hundreds  of  the  exiles  must 
have  passed  away  in  obscurity,  buried  in  the  field  on  which 
they  fell,  or  carried  from  the  damp  vaults  of  the  military 
hospital  to  the  trench,  without  any  token  of  remembrance, 
or  any  other  wish  beyond  that  which  the  minstrels  have 
ascribed  to  one  of  the  greatest  of  our  olden  heroes  :— 

"  Oh  !  bury  me  by  the  bracken  bush, 

Beneath  the  blooming  brier ; 
Let  never  living  mortal  ken 

That  a  kindly  Scot  lies  here  !  " 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS. 


THE  Rhine  is  running  deep  and  red, 

The  island  lies  before — 
"  Now  is  there  one  of  all  the  host 

Will  dare  to  venture  o'er  ? 
For  not  alone  the  river's  sweep 

Might  make  a  brave  man  quail ; 
The  foe  are  on  the  further  side, 

Their  shot  comes  fast  as  hail. 
God  help  us,  if  the  middle  isle 

We  may  not  hope  to  win ! 
Now  is  there  any  of  the  host 

Will  dare  to  venture  in  ?  " 

ii. 

"  The  ford  is  deep,  the  banks  are  steep, 

The  island-shore  lies  wide  : 
No|  man  nor  horse  could  stem  its  force, 

Or  reach  the  further  side. 
See  there  amidst  the  willow-boughs 

The  serried  bayonets  gleam  ; 
They've  flung  their  bridge — they've  won  the 
isle 

The  foe  have  crossed  the  stream ! 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS.  <oi 

Their  volley  flashes  sharp  and  strong — 

By  all  the  Saints  !  I  trow 
There  never  yet  was  soldier  born 
"  Could  force  that  passage  now  ! " 

in. 

So  spoke  the  bold  French  Mareschal 

With  him  who  led  the  van, 
Whilst  rough  and  red  before  their  view 

The  turbid  river  ran. 
Nor  bridge  nor  boat  had  they  to  cross 

The  wild  and  swollen  Rhine, 
And  thundering  on  the  other  bank 

Far  stretched  the  German  line. 
Hard  by  there  stood  a  swarthy  man 

Was  leaning  on  his  sword, 
And  a  saddened  smile  lit  up  his  face 

As  he  heard  the  Captain's  word. 
"  I've  seen  a  wilder  stream  ere  now 

Than  that  which  rushes  there  ; 
I've  stemmed  a  heavier  torrent  yet 

And  never  thought  to  dare. 
If  German  steel  be  sharp  and  keen, 

Is  ours  not  strong  and  true  ? 
There  may  be  danger  in  the  deed, 

But  there  is  honor  too." 

IV. 

The  old  Lord  in  his  saddle  turned, 
^      And  hastily  he  said — 
[   "  Hath  bold  Duguesclin's  fiery  heart 
Awakened  from  the  dead  ? 


102      LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

Thou  art  the  leader  of  the  Scots— 

Now  well  and  sure  I  know, 
That  gentle  blood  in  dangerous  hour 

Ne'er  yet  ran  cold  nor  slow, 
And  I  have  seen  ye  in  the  fight 

Do  all  that  mortal  may  : 
If  honor  is  the  boon  ye  seek, 

It  may  be  won  this  day — 
The  prize  is  in  the  middle  isle, 

There  lies  the  adventurous  way, 
And  armies  twain  are  on  the  plain, 

The  daring  deed  to  see — 
Now  ask  thy  gallant  company 

If  they  will  follow  thee  !  " 

v. 
Right  gladsome  looked  the  Captain  then, 

And  nothing  did  he  say, 
But  he  turned  him  to  his  little  band — 

Oh  few,  I  ween,  were  they ! 
The  relics  of  the  bravest  force 
r^  That  ever  fought  in  fray. 
No  one  of  all  that  company 

But  bore  a  gentle  name, 
Not  one  whose  fathers  had  not  stood 

In  Scotland's  fields  of  fame. 
All  they  had  marched  with  great  Dundee 

To  where  he  fought  and  fell, 
And  in  the  deadly  battle-strife 

Had  venged  their  leader  well  : 
And  they  had  bent  the  knee  to  earth 

When  every  eye  was  dim,. 
As  o'er  their  hero's  buried  corpse 

They  sang  the  funeral  hymn ; 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS. 

And  they  had  trod  the  Pass  once  more, 

And  stooped  on  either  side 
To  pluck  the  heather  from  the  spot 

Where  he  had  dropped  and  died  ; 
And  they  had  bound  it  next  their  heai 

And  ta'en  a  last  farewell 
Of  Scottish  earth  and  Scottish  sky, 

Where  Scotland's  glory  fell. 
Then  went  they  forth  to  foreign  lands 

Like  bent  and  broken  men, 
Who  leave  their  dearest  hope  behind, 

And  may  not  turn  again. 


VI. 


"  The  stream,"  he  said,  "  is  broad  and  deep, 

And  stubborn  is  the  foe — 
Yon  island-strength  is  guarded  well 
_    Say,  brothers,  will  ye  go  ? 
From  home  and  kin  for  many  a  year 

Our  steps  have  wandered  wide, 
And  never  may  our  bones  be  laid 

Our  fathers'  graves  beside. 
No  children  have  we  to  lament, 

No  wives  to  wail  our  fall  ; 
The  traitor's  and  the  spoiler's  hand 

Have  reft  our  hearths  of  all. 
But  we  have  hearts,  and  we  have  arms, 

As  strong  to  will  and  dare 
As  when  our  ancient  banners  flew 

Within  the  northern  air. 
Come,  brothers  !  let  me  name  a  spell 

Shall  rouse  your  souls  again, 


104      LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

I    And  send  the  old  blood  bounding  free    I 

Through  pulse,  and  heart,  and  vein. 
~~Call  back  the  days  of  bygone  years — •~~~~~^ 

Be  young  and  strong  once  more ; 
Think  yonder  stream,  so  stark  and  red, 

r    Is  one  we've  crossed  before.  ^ 

Rise,  hill  and  glen !  rise,  crag  and  wood  ! 

Rise  up  on  either  hand — 
Again  upon  the  Garry's  banks, 

On  Scottish  soil  we  stand  ! 

—       f  •        •+-     -. 

Again  I  see  the  tartans  wave, 

Again  the  trumpets  ring  ; 
Again  I  hear  our  leader's  call — 

'  Upon  them  for  the  King !  ' 
Stayed  we  behind  that  glorious  day 

For  roaring  flood  or  linn  ? 
The  soul  of  Graeme  is  with  us  still — 

Now,  brothers  !  will  ye  in  ? "' 


VII. 

No  stay — no  pause.     With  one  accord 

They  grasped  each  other's  hand, 
Then  plunged  into  the  angry  flood, 

That  bold  and  dauntless  band. 
High  flew  the  spray  above  their  heads, 

Yet  onward  still  they  bore, 
Midst  cheer,  and  shout,  and  answering  yell, 

And  shot,  and  cannon-roar — 
"  Now,  by  the  Holy  Cross !  I  swear, 

Since  earth  and  sea  began, 
Was  never  such  a  daring  deed 

Essayed  by  mortal  man  ! " 

V > 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS.  105 

VIII. 

Thick  blew  the  smoke  across  the  stream, 

And  faster  flashed  the  flame  : 
The  water  plashed  in  hissing  jets 

As  ball  and  bullet  came. 
Yet  onwards  pushed  the  Cavaliers 

All  stern  and  undismayed, 
With  thousand  armed  foes  before, 

And  none  behind  to  aid. 
Once,  as  they  n eared  the  middle  stream,  I 

So  strong  the  torrent  swept, 
That  scarce  that  long  and  living  wall 

Their  dangerous  footing  kept. 
Then  rose  a  warning  cry  behind, 

A  joyous  shout  before  : 
"  The  current's  strong — the  way  is  long — 

They'll  never  reach  the  shore ! 
See,  see  !  they  stagger  in  the  midst, 

They  waver  in  their  line ! 
Fire  on  the  madmen  !  break  their  ranks, 

And  whelm  them  in  the  Rhine !  " 


IX. 


Have  you  seen  the  tall  trees  swaying 

When  the  blast  is  sounding  shrill, 
And  the  whirlwind  reels  in  fury 

Down  the  gorges  of  the  hill  ? 
How  they  toss  their  mighty  branches 

Struggling  with  the  tempest's  shock  ; 
How  they  keep  their  place  of  vantage, 

Cleaving  firmly  to  the  rock  ? 


Io6      LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VAIJERS. 

Even  so  the  Scottish  warriors 

Held  their  own  against  the  river  ; 
Though  the  water  flashed  around  them, 

Not  an  eye  was  seen  to  quiver  ; 
Though  the  shot  flew  sharp  and  deadly, 

Not  a  man  relaxed  his  hold  ; 
For  their  hearts  were  big  and  thrilling 

With  the  mighty  thoughts  of  old. 
One  word  was  spoke  among  them,      \ 

And  through  the  ranks  it  spread  —  \ 
"  Remember  our  dead  Claverhouse  !  " 
_  ,Was  all  the  Captain  said.  -  J 

Then,  sternly  bending  forward, 

They  wrestled  on  awhile, 
Until  they  cleared  the  heavy  stream, 

Then  rushed  towards  the  isle. 


x. 

The  German  heart  is  stout  and  true, 

^The  German  arm  is  strong  ; 
The  German  foot  goes  seldom  back 

Where  armed  foemen  throng. 
But  never  had  they  faced  in  field 

So  stern  a  charge  before, 
And  never  had  they  felt  the  sweep 
_     Of  Scotland's  broad  claymore. 
\  Not  fiercer  pours  the  avalanche       \ 
\      Adown  the  steep  incline, 
I  That  rises  o'er  the  parent-springs 

^_Of  rough  and  rapid  Rhine— 
-e  Scarce  swifter  shoots  the  bolt  from  heaven 
Than  came  the  Scottish  band 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS.  107 

Right  up  against  the  guarded  trench, 

And  o'er  it  sword  in  hand. 
In  vain  their  leaders  forward  press- 

They  meet  the  deadly  brand ! 


XI. 

O  lonely  island  of  the  Rhine — 

Where  seed  was  never  sown, 
What  harvest  lay  upon  thy  sands, 

By  those  strong  reapers  thrown  ? 
What  saw  the  winter  moon  that  night, 

As,  struggling  through  the  rain, 
She  poured  a  wan  and  fitful  light 

. On  marsh,  and  stream,  and  plain  ? 

A  dreary  spot  with  corpses  strewn,  - 

And  bayonets  glistening  round  ; 
A  broken  bridge,  a  stranded  boat, 

A  bare  and  battered  mound  ; 
And  one  huge  watch-fire's  kindled  pile, 

That  sent  its  quivering  glare 
To  tell  the  leaders  of  the  host 

The  conquering  Scots  were  there  ! 


XII. 

And  did  they  twine  the  laurel-wreath 

For  those  who  fought  so  well  ? 
And  did  they  honor  those  who  lived, 

And  weep  for  those  who  fell  ? 
What  meed  of  thanks  was  given  to  them 

Let  aged  annals  tell. 
Why  should  they  bring  the  laurel-wreath — 

Why  crown  the  cup  with  wine  ? 


io8      LA  YS  OF  THE  CSOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

It  was  not  Frenchmen's  blood  that  flowed 

So  freely  on  the  Rhine — 
A  stranger  band  of  beggared  men 

Had  done  the  venturous  deed  : 
The  glory  was  to  France  alone, 

The  danger  was  their  meed. 
And  what  cared  they  for  idle  thanks 
^    From  foreign  prince  and  peer  ? 
j  What  virtue  had  such  honeyed  words    I 
W  The  exiled  heart  to  cheer  ?  _A 

What  mattered  it  that  men  should  vaunt  ^ 

And  loud  and  fondly  swear,    v-.  o     5  "fo 
That  higher  feat  of  chivalry 

Was  never  wrought  elsewhere  ? 
They  bore  within  their  breasts  the  grief 

That  fame  can  never  heal — 
The  deep,  unutterable  woe 

Which  none  save  exiles  feel. 
Their  hearts  were  yearning  for  the-  land 

They  ne'er  might  see  again — 
For  Scotland's  high  and  heathered  hills, 

For  mountain,  loch,  and  glen—- 
For those  who  haply  lay  at  rest 

Beyond  the  distant  sea, 
Beneath  the  green  and  daisied  turf 

Where  they  would  gladly  be ! 

XIII. 

Long  years  went  by.     The  lonely  isle 

In  Rhine's  impetuous  flood 
Has  ta'en  another  name  from  those 

Who  bought  it  with  their  blood : 


THE  ISLAND  OF  THE  SCOTS.  109 

And,  though  the  legend  does  not  live — 

For  legends  lightly  die — 
The  peasant/as  he  sees  the  stream 

In  winter  roiling  by,  . 

And  foaming  o'er  its  channel  bed 

Between  him  and  the  spot 
Won  by  the  warriors  of  the  sword, 
Still  calls  that  deep  and  dangerous  ford 

The  Passaged  the  Scot. 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES. 


THOUGH  the  sceptre  had  departed  from  the  House  of 
Stuart,  it  was  reserved  for  one  of  its  last  descendants  to 
prove  to  the  world,  by  his  personal  gallantry  and  noble 
spirit  of  enterprise,  that  he  at  least  had  not  degenerated 
from  his  royal  line  of  ancestors.  The  daring  effort  of 
Charles  Edward  to  recover  the  crown  of  these  kingdoms 
for  his  father,  is  to  us  the  most  remarkable  incident  of  the 
last  century.  It  was  honorable  alike  to  the  Prince  and 
to  those  who  espoused  his  cause  ;  and  even  in  a  political 
point  of  view,  the  outbreak  ought  not  to  be  deplored,  since 
its  failure  put  an  end  for  ever  to  the  dynastical  struggle 
which,  for  more  than  half  a  century,  had  agitated  the 
whole  of  Britain  ;  since  it  established  the  rule  of  law  and 
of  social  order  throughout  the  mountainous  districts  of 
Scotland,  and  blended  Celt  and  Saxon  into  one  prosperous 
and  united  people.  It  was  better  that  the  antiquated  sys- 
tem of  clanship  should  have  expired  in  a  blaze  of  glory, 
than  gradually  dwindle  into  contempt ;  better  that  the  pa- 
triarchal rule  should  at  once  have  been  extinguished  by 
the  dire  catastrophe  of  Culloden,  than  that  it  should  have 
lingered  on,  the  shadow  of  an  old  tradition.  There  is 
nothing  now  to  prevent  us  from  dwelling  with  pride  and 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.        in 

admiration  on  the  matchless  devotion  displayed  by  the 
Highlanders,  in  1745,  in  behalf  of  the  heir  of  him  whom 
they  acknowledged  as  their  lawful  king.  No  feeling  can 
arise  to  repress  the  interest  and  the  sympathy  which  is 
excited  by  the  perusal  of  the  tale  narrating  the  sufferings 
of  the  princely  wanderer.  That  unbought  loyalty  and 
allegiance  of  the  heart,  which  would  not  depart  from  its 
constancy  until  the  tomb  of  the  Vatican  had  closed  upon 
the  last  of  the  Stuart  line,  has  long  since  been  transferred 
to  the  constitutional  sovereign  of  these  realms  ;  and  the 
enthusiastic  welcome  which  has  so  often  greeted  the  return 
of  Queen  Victoria  to  her  Highland  home,  owes  its  origin 
to  a  deeper  feeling  than  that  dull  respect  which  modern 
liberalism  asserts  to  be  the  only  tribute  due  to  the  first 
magistrate  of  the  land. 

The  campaign  of  1845  yields  in  romantic  interest  to 
none  which  is  written  in  history.  A  young  and  inexperi- 
enced prince,  whose  person  was  utterly  unknown  to  any  of 
his  adherents,  landed  on  the  west  coast  of  Scotland,  not  at 
the  head  of  a  foreign  force,  not  munimented  with  supplies 
and  arms,  but  accompanied  by  a  mere  handful  of  followers, 
and  ignorant  of  the  language  of  the  people  amongst  whom 
he  was  hazarding  his  person.  His  presence  in  Scotland  had 
not  been  urged  by  the  chiefs  of  the  clans,  most  of  whom 
were  deeply  averse  to  embarking  in  an  enterprise  which 
must  involve  them  in  a  war  with  so  powerful  an  antagonist 
as  England,  and  which,  if  unsuccessful,  could  only  termi- 
nate in  the  utter  ruin  of  their  fortunes.  This  was  not  a 
cause  in  which  the  whole  of  Scotland  was  concerned. 
Although  it  was  well  known  that  many  leading  families  in 
the  Lowlands  entertained  Jacobite  opinions,  and  although 
a  large  proportion  of  the  common  people  had  not  yet 
become  reconciled  to  or  satisfied  of  the  advantages  of  the 
Union,  by  which  they  considered  themselves  dishonored 
and  betrayed,  it  was  hardly  to  be  expected  that,  without 


H2       LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

some  fair  guarantee  for  success,  the  bulk  of  the  Scottish 
nation  would  actively  bestir  themselves  on  the  side  of  the 
exiled  family.  Besides  this,  even  amongst  the  Highlanders 
there  was  not  unanimity  of  opinion.  The  three  northern 
clans  of  Sutherland,  Mackay,  and  Monro,  were  known  to 
be  staunch  supporters  of  the  Government.  It  was  doubtful 
what  part  might  be  taken  in  the  struggle  by  those  of 
Mackenzie  and  Ross.  The  chiefs  of  Skye,  who  could  have 
brought  a  large  force  of  armed  men  into  the  field,  had  de- 
clined participating  in  the  attempt.  The  adhesion  of  Lord 
Lovat,  upon  which  the  co-operation  of  the  Frasers  might 
depend,  could  not  be  calculated  on  with  certainty ;  and 
nothing  but  hostility  could  be  expected  from  the  powerful 
sept  of  the  Campbells.  Under  such  circumstances,  it  is 
little  wonder  if  Cameron  of  Locheill,  the  most  sagacious 
of  all  the  chieftains  who  favored  the  Stuart  cause,  was 
struck  with  consternation  and  alarm  at  the  news  of  the 
Prince's  landing,  or  that  he  attempted  to  persuade  him 
from  undertaking  an  adventure  so  seemingly  hopeless.  Mr. 
Robert  Chambers,  in  his  admirable  history  of  that  period, 
does  not  in  the  least  exaggerate  the  importance  of  the 
interview  on  the  result  of  which  the  prosecution  of  the 
war  depended.  "  On  arriving  at  Borrodale,  Locheill  had 
a  private  interview  with  the  Prince,  in  which  the  probabil- 
ities of  the  enterprise  were  anxiously  debated.  Charles 
used  every  argument  to  excite  the  loyalty  of  Locheill,  and 
the  chief  exerted  all  his  eloquence  to  persuade  the  Prince 
to  withdraw  till  a  better  opportunity.  Charles  represented 
the  present  as  the  best  possible  opportunity,  seeing  that 
the  French  general  kept  the  British  army  completely 
engaged  aboard,  while  at  home  there  were  no  troops  but 
one  or  two  newly-raised  regiments.  He  expressed  his 
confidence  that  a  small  «body  of  Highlanders  would  .be 
sufficient  to  gain  a  victory  over  all  the  force  that  could 
now  be  brought  against  him  j  and  he  was  equally  sure  that 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.       113 

such  an  advantage  was  all  that  was  required  to  make  his 
friends  at  home  declare  in  his  favor,  and  cause  those 
abroad  to  send  him  assistance.  All  he  wanted  was  that 
the  Highlanders  would  begin  the  war.  Locheill  still 
resisted,  entreating  Charles  to  be  more  temperate,  and 
consent  to  remain  concealed  where  he  was,  till  his  friends 
should  meet  together  and  concert  what  was  best  to  be  done. 
Charles,  whose  mind  was  wound  up  to  the  utmost  pitch  of 
impatience,  paid  no  regard  to  this  proposal,  but  answered 
that  he  was  determined  to  put  all  to  the  hazard.  'In  a 
few  days,'  said  he,  '  with  the  few  friends  I  have,  I  will 
raise  the  royal  standard,  and  proclaim  to  the  people  of 
Britain  that  Charles  Stuart  is  come  over  to  claim  the 
crown  of  his  ancestors — to  win  it,  or  to  perish  in  the 
attempt !  Locheill — who,  my  father  has  often  told  me, 
was  our  firmest  friend — may  stay  at  home,  and  learn  from 
the  newspapers  the  fate  of  his  Prince  J '  *  No  ! '  said 
Locheill,  stung  by  so  poignant  a  reproach,  and  hurried 
away  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment ;  '  I  will  share  the 
fate  of  my  Prince,  and  so  shall  every  man  over  whom 
nature  or  fortune  has  given  me  any  power.'  Such  was  the 
juncture  upon  which  depended  the  civil  war  of  1745  ;  for 
it  is  a  point  agreed,  says  Mr.  Home,  who  narrates  this 
conversation,  that  if  Locheill  had  persisted  in  his  refusal 
to  take  arms,  no  other  chief  would  have  joined  the  standard, 
and  the  spark  of  rebellion  must  have  been  instantly  ex- 
tinguished." Not  more  than  twelve  hundred  men  were 
assembled  in  Glenfinnan  on  the  day  when  the  standard  was 
unfurled  by  the  Marquis  of  Tullibardine ;  and  at  the  head 
of  this  mere  handful  of  followers,  Charles  Edward  com, 
menced  the  stupendous  enterprise  of  reconquering  the 
dominions  of  his  fathers. 

With  a  force  which,  at  the  battle  of  Preston,  did  not 
double  the  above  numbers,  the  Prince  descended  upon  the 
Lowlands,  having  baffled  the  attempts  of  General  Cope  to 


ii4       LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

intercept  his  march — occupied  the  city  of  Perth,  and  the 
town  of  Dundee,  and  finally,  after  a  faint  show  of  resistance 
on  the  part  of  the  burghers,  took  possession  of  the  ancient 
capital  of  Scotland,  and  once  more  established  a  court  in 
the  halls  of  Holyrood.  His  youth,  his  gallantry,  and  the 
grace  and  beauty  of  his  person,  added  to  a  most  winning 
and  affable  address,  acquired  for  him  the  sympathy  of  many 
who,  from  political  motives,  abstained  from  becoming  his 
adherents.  Possibly  certain  feelings  of  nationality,  which 
no  deliberate  views  of  civil  or  religious  policy  could  alto- 
gether extirpate,  led  such  men  to  regard,  with  a  sensation 
akin  to  pride,  the  spectacle  of  a  prince  descended  from  the 
long  line  of  Scottish  kings,  again  occupying  his  ancestral 
seat,  and  restoring  to  their  country,  which  had  been  utterly 
neglected  by  the  new  dynasty,  a  portion  of  its  former  state. 
No  doubt  a  sense  of  pity  for  the  probable  fate  of  one  so 
young  and  chivalrous  was  often  present  to  their  minds,  for 
they  had  thorough  confidence  in  the  intrepidity  of  the  regu- 
lar troops,  and  in  the  capacity  of  their  commander ;  and 
they  never  for  a  moment  supposed  that  these  could  be  suc- 
cessfully encountered  by  a  raw  levy  of  undisciplined  High- 
landers, ill  armed  and  worse  equipped  and  without  the  sup- 
port of  any  artillery. 

The  issue  of  the  battle  of  Prestonpans  struck  Edinburgh 
with  amazement.  In  point  of  numbers  the  two  armies 
were  nearly  equal,  but  in  everything  else,  save  personal 
valor,  the  royal  troops  had  the  advantage.  And  yet,  in 
four  minutes — for  the  battle  is  said  not  to  have  lasted  long- 
er— the  Highlanders  having  made  only  one  terrific  and 
impetuous  charge — the  rout  of  the  regulars  was  general. 
The  infantry  was  broken  and  cut  to  pieces ;  the  dragoons, 
who  behaved  shamefully  on  the  occasion,  turned  bridle  and 
fled,  without  having  once  crossed  swords  with  the  enemy. 
Mr.  Chambers  thus  terminates  his  account  of  the  action  : 
"  The  general  result  of  the  battle  of  Preston  may  be  stated 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.       115 

as  having  been  the  total  overthrow  and  almost  entire  de- 
struction of  the  royal  army.  Most  of  the  infantry,  falling 
upon  the  park  walls  of  Preston,  were  there  huddled  together 
without  the  power  of  resistance,  into  a  confused  drove,  and 
had  either  to  surrender  or  be  cut  to  pieces.  Many,  in  vainly 
attempting  to  climb  over  the  walls,  fell  an  easy  prey  to  the 
ruthless  claymore.  Nearly  400,  it  is  said,  were  thus  slain, 
700  taken,  while  only  about  170  in  all  succeeded  in  effecting 
their  escape. 

"  The  dragoons,  with  worse  conduct,  were  much  more 
fortunate.  In  falling  back,  they  had  the  good  luck  to  find 
outlets  from  their  respective  positions  by  the  roads  which 
ran  along  the  various  extremities  of  the  park  wall,  and 
they  thus  got  clear  through  the  village  with  little  slaughter  ; 
after  which,  as  the  Highlanders  had  no  horse  to  pursue 
them,  they  were  safe.  Several  officers,  among  whom  were 
Fowkes  and  Lascelles,  escaped  to  Cockenzie  and  along 
Seton  Sands,  in  a  direction  contrary  to  the  general  flight. 

"  The  unfortunate  Cope  had  attempted,  at  the  first  break 
of  Gardiner's  dragoons,  to  stop  and  rally  them,  but  was 
borne  headlong  with  the  confused  bands,  through  the  nar- 
row road  to  the  south  of  the  enclosures,  notwithstanding 
all  his  efforts  to  the  contrary.  On  getting  beyond  the 
village,  where  he  was  joined  by  the  retreating  bands  of  the 
other  regiment,  he  made  one  anxious  effort,  with  the  Earls 
of  Loudon  and  Home,  to  form  and  bring  them  back  to 
charge  the  enemy,  now  disordered  by  the  pursuit ;  but  in 
vain.  They  fled  on,  ducking  their  heads  along  their  horses' 
necks  to  escape  the  bullets  which  the  pursuers  occasionally 
sent  after  them.  By  using  great  exertions,  and  holding 
pistols  to  the  heads  of  the  troopers,  Sir  John  and  a  few  of 
his  officers  induced  a  small  number  of  them  to  halt  in  a 
field  near  St.  Clement's  Wells,  about  two  miles  from  the 
battle  ground.  But,  after  a  momentary  delay,  the  accident- 
al firing  of  a  pistol  renewed  the  panic,  and  they  rode  of! 


1 1 6      LAYS  OF  THE  SCO  A  TISH  CA  VALIERS. 

once  more  in  great  disorder.  Sir  John  Cope,  with  a  por- 
tion of  them  reached  Channelkirk  at  an  early  hour  in  the 
forenoon,  and  there  halted  to  breakfast,  and  to  write  a  brief 
note  to  one  of  the  state-officers,  relating  the  fate  of  the  day. 
He  then  resumed  his  flight,  and  reached  Coldstream  that 
night.  Next  morning  he  proceeded  to  Berwick,  whose 
fortifications  seemed  competent  to  give  the  security  he 
required.  He  everywhere  brought  the  first  tidings  of  his 
own  defeat." 

This  victory  operated  very  much  in  favor  of  Prince 
Charles.  It  secured  him,  for  a  season,  the  undisputed 
possession  of  Scotland,  and  enabled  numerous  adherents 
from  all  parts  of  the  country  to  raise  such  forces  as  they 
could  command,  and  to  repair  to  his  banner.  His  popularity 
in  Edinburgh  daily  increased,  as  the  qualities  of  his  per- 
son and  mind  became  known  ;  and  such  testimony  as  the 
following,  with  respect  to  his  estimation  by  the  fair  sex  and 
the  devotion  they  exhibited  in  his  cause,  is  not  over- 
charged :  "  His  affability  and  great  personal  grace  wrought 
him  high  favor  with  the  ladies,  who,  as  we  learn  from  the 
letters  of  President  Forbes,  became  generally  so  zealous  in 
his  cause  as  to  have  some  serious  effect  in  inducing  their 
admirers  to  declare  for  the  prince.  There  was,  we  know 
for  certain,  a  Miss  Ltimsden,  who  plainly  told  her  lover,  a 
young  artist,  named  Robert  Strange,  that  he  might  think 
no  more  of  her  unless  he  should  immediately  join  Prince 
Charles,  and  thus  actually  prevailed  upon  him  to  take  up 
arms.  It  may  be  added  that  he  survived  the  enterprise, 
escaped  with  great  difficulty,  and  married  the  lady.  He 
was  afterwards  the  best  line-engraver  of  his  time,  and  re- 
ceived the  honor  of  knighthood  from  George  III.  White 
ribbons  and  breastknots  became  at  this  time  conspicuous 
articles  of  female  attire  in  private  assemblies.  The  ladies 
also  showed  considerable  zeal  in  contributing  plate  and 
other  articles  for  the  use  of  the  Chevalier  at  the  palace, 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.      H7 

and  in  raising  pecuniary  subsidies  for  him.  Many  a  posset- 
dish  and  snuff-box,  many  a  treasured  necklace  and  repeat- 
er, many  a  jewel  which  had  adorned  its  successive  genera- 
tions  of  family  beauties,  was  at  this  time  sold  or  laid  in 
pledge,  to  raise  a  little  money  for  the  service  of  Prince 
Charlie. 

As  to  the  motives  and  intended  policy  of  this  remarka- 
ble and  unfortunate  young  man,  it  may  be  interesting  to 
quote  the  terms  of  the  proclamation  which  he  issued  on  the 
loth  October,  1745,  before  commencing  his  march  into  Eng- 
land. Let  his  history  be  impartially  read — his  character, 
as  spoken  of  by  those  who  knew  him  best,  fairly  noted — - 
and  I  think  there  cannot  be  a  doubt  that,  had  he  succeed- 
ed in  his  daring  attempt,  he  would  have  been  true  to  the 
letter  of  his  word,  and  fulfilled  a  pledge  which  Britain 
never  more  required  than  at  the  period  when  that  document 
was  penned. 

"  Do  not  the  pulpits  and  congregations  of  the  clergy, 
as  well  as  your  weekly  papers,  ring  with  the  dreadful  threats 
of  popery,  slavery,  tyranny,  and  arbitrary  power,  which  are 
now  ready  to  be  imposed  upon  you  by  the  formidable  pow- 
ers of  France  and  Spain  ?  Is  not  my  royal  father  represent- 
ed as  a  blood-thirsty  tyrant,  breathing  out  nothing  but  de- 
struction to  all  who  will  not  immediately  embrace  an 
odious  religion  ?  Or  have  I  myself  been  better  used  ?  But 
listen  only  to  the  naked  truth. 

"  I,  with  my  own  money,  hired  a  small  vessel.  Ill-sup- 
plied with  money,  arms,  or  friends,  I  arrived  in  Scotland, 
attended  by  seven  persons.  I  publish  the  King  my  father's 
declaration,  and  proclaim  his  title,  with  pardon  in  one  hand, 
and  in  the  other  liberty  of  conscience,  and  the  most  solemn 
promises  to  grant  whatever  a  free  Parliament  shall  propose 
for  the  happiness  of  the  people.  I  have,  I  confess,  the 
greatest  reason  to  adore  the  goodness  of  Almighty  God, 
who  has  in  so  remarkable  a  manner  protected  me  and  my 


n8      LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

small  army  through  the  many  dangers  to  which  we  were  at 
first  exposed,  and  who  has  led  me  in  the  way  to  victory, 
and  to  the  capital  of  this  ancient  kingdom,  amidst  the  accla- 
mations of  the  King  my  Father's  subjects.  Why,  then,  is 
so  much  pains  taken  to  spirit  up  the  minds  of  the  people 
against  this  my  undertaking  ? 

"  The  reason  is  obvious ;  it  is,  lest  the  real  sense  of  the 
nation's  present  sufferings  should  blot  out  the  remembrance 
of  past  misfortunes,  and  of  the  outcries  formerly  raised 
against  the  royal  family.  Whatever  miscarriages  might 
have  given  occasion  to  them,  they  have  been  more  than 
atoned  for  since  ;  and  the  nation  has  now  an  opportunity 
of  being  secured  against  the  like  in  future. 

"  That  our  family  has  suffered  exile  during  these  fifty- 
seven  years,  everybody  knows.  Has  the  nation  during 
that  period  of  time,  been  the  more  happy  and  flourishing 
for  it  ?  Have  you  found  reason  to  love  and  cherish  your 
governors  as  the  fathers  of  the  people  of  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland  ?  Has  a  family,  upon  whom  a  faction  unlawfully 
bestowed  the  diadem  of  a  rightful  prince,  retained  a  due 
sense  of  so  great  a  trust  and  favor  ?  Have  you  found 
more  humanity  and  condescension  in  those  who  were  not 
born  -to  a  crown,  than  in  my  royal  forefathers  ?  Have 
their  ears  been  open  to  the  cries  of  the  people  ?  Have 
they  or  do  they  consider  only  the  interests  of  these  nations  ? 
Have  you  reaped  any  other  benefit  from  them  than  an  im- 
mense load  of  debt  ?  If  I  am  answered  in  the  affirmative, 
why  has  their  government  been  so  often  railed  at  in  all 
your  public  assemblies  ?  Why  has  the  nation  been  so  long 
crying  out  in  vain  for  redress  against  the  abuse  of  Parlia- 
ments, upon  account  of  their  long  duration,  the  multitude 
of  placemen,  which  occasions  their  venality,  the  introduction 
of  penal  laws,  and,  in  general,  against  the  miserable  situa- 
tion of  the  kingdom  at  home  and  abroad  ?  All  these,  and 
many  more  inconveniences,  must  now  be  removed,  unless 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.       119 

the  people  of  Great  Britain  be  already  so  far  corrupted 
that  they  will  not  accept  of  freedom  when  offered  to  them, 
seeing  the  King,  on  his  restoration,  will  refuse  nothing  that 
a  free  Parliament  can  ask  for  the  security  of  the  religion, 
laws,  and  liberty  of  his  people. 

"  It  is  now  time  to  conclude  ;  and  I  shall  do  it  with  this 
reflection :  Civil  wars  are  ever  attended  with  rancor  and 
ill-will,  which  party-rage  never  fails  to  produce  in  the  minds 
of  those  whom  different  interests,  principles,  or  views,  set 
in  opposition  to  one  another.  I,  therefore,  earnestly  require 
it  of  my  friends  to  give  as  little  loose  as  possible  to  such 
passions :  this  will  prove  the  most  effectual  means  to 
prevent  the  same  in  the  enemies  of  my  royal  cause.  And 
this  my  declaration  will  vindicate  to  all  posterity  the 
nobleness  of  my  undertaking  and  the  generosity  of  my 
intentions." 

There  was  much  truth  in  the  open  charges  preferred  in 
this  declaration  against  the  existing  Government.  The 
sovereigns  of  the  House  of  Hanover  had  always  shown  a 
marked  predilection  for  their  Continental  possessions,  and 
had  proportionally  neglected  the  affairs  of  Britain.  Under 
Walpole's  administration,  the  Imperial  Parliament  had 
degenerated  from  an  independent  assembly  to  a  junta  of 
placemen,  and  the  most  flagitious  system  of  bribery  was 
openly  practised  and  avowed.  It  was  not  without  reason 
that  Charles  contrasted  the  state  of  the  nation  then,  with 
its  position  when  under  the  rule  of  the  legitimate  family  ; 
and  had  there  not  been  a  strong,  I  think,  unreasonable 
suspicion  in  the  minds  of  many,  that  his  success  would  be 
the  prelude  to  a  vigorous  attack  upon  the  established 
religions  of  the  country,  and  that  he  would  be  inclined  to 
follow  out  in  this  respect  the  fatal  policy  of  his  grandfather, 
Charles  would  in  all  probability  have  received  a  more 
active  and  general  support  than  was  accorded  to  him.  But 
the  zeal  with  which  the  Episcopalian  party  in  Scotland 


120       LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

espoused  his  cause,  naturally  gave  rise  to  the  idea  that  the 
attempt  of  the  Prince  was  of  evil  omen  to  Presbytery ;  and 
the  settlement  of  the  Church  upon  its  present  footing  was 
yet  so  recent,  that  the  sores  of  the  old  feud  were  still 
festering  and  green.  The  Established  clergy,  therefore, 
were,  nearly  to  a  man,  opposed  to  his  pretensions ;  and  one 
minister  of  Edinburgh,  at  the  time  when  the  Highland  host 
was  in  possession  of  the  city,  had  the  courage  to  conclude 
his  prayer  nearly  in  the  following  terms — "  Bless  the  king  ; 
Thou  knows  what  king  I  mean — may  his  crown  long  sit 
easy  on  his  head.  And  as  to  this  young  man  who  has 
come  among  us  to  seek  an  earthly  crown,  we  beseech  Thee 
in  mercy  to  take  him  to  Thyself  and  give  him  a  crown  of 
glory  !  "  At  the  same  time  it  is  very  curious  to  observe, 
that  the  most  violent  sect  of  Presbyterians,  who  might  be 
considered  as  the  representatives  of  the  extreme  Cameronian 
principle,  and  who  had  early  seceded  from  the  Church,  and 
bitterly  opposed  the  union  of  the  kingdoms,  were  not 
indisposed,  on  certain  terms,  to  coalesce  with  the  Jacobites. 
It  is  hardly  possible  to  understand  the  motives  which 
actuated  these  men,  who  appear  to  have  regarded  each 
successive  Government  as  equally  obnoxious.  Some  writers 
go  the  length  of  averring  that,  in  1688,  a  negotiation  was 
opened  by  one  section  of  the  Covenanters  with  Lord 
Dundee,  with  the  object  of  resistance  to  the  usurpation  of 
William  of  Orange,  and  that  the  project  was  frustrated 
only  by  the  death  of  that  heroic  nobleman.  Sir  Walter 
Scott — a  great  authority — seems  to  have  been  convinced 
that  such  was  the  case  ;  but  in  the  absence  of  direct  proof, 
I  can  hardly  credit  it.  It  is  perfectly  well  known  that  a 
conspiracy  was  formed  by  a  certain  section  of  the  Cameronian 
party  to  assassinate  Lords  Dundee  and  Dunfermline  whilst 
in  attendance  at  the  meeting  of  Estates  ;  and  although  the 
recognition  of  William  as  king  might  not  have  been 
palatable  to  others  who  held  the  same  opinion,  it  would 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.      121 

be  a  strange  thing  if  they  had  so  suddenly  resolved  to 
assist  Dundee  in  his  efforts  for  the  exiled  family.  But  the 
political  changes  in  Scotland,  more  especially  the  Union, 
seem  to  have  inspired  some  of  these  men  with  a  spirit  of 
disaffection  to  the  Government ;  for,  according  to  Mr. 
Chambers,  the  most  rigid  sect  of  Presbyterians  had,  since 
the  Revolution,  expressed  a  strong  desire  to  coalesce  with 
the  Jacobites,  with  the  hope,  in  case  the  house  of  Stuart 
were  restored,  to  obtain  what  they  called  a  covenanted 
King.  Of  this  sect  one  thousand  had  assembled  in 
Dumfriesshire  at  the  first  intelligence  of  the  insurrection, 
bearing  arms  and  colors,  and  supposed  to  contemplate  a 
junction  with  the  Chevalier.  But  these  religionists  were 
now  almost  as  violently  distinct  from  the  Established 
Church  of  Scotland  as  ever  they  had  been  from  those  of 
England  and  Rome,  and  had  long  ceased  to  play  a 
prominent  part  in  the  national  disputes.  The  Established 
clergy,  and  the  greater  part  of  their  congregations,  were 
averse  to  Charles,  upon  considerations  perfectly  moderate, 
at  the  same  time  not  easy  to  be  shaken. 

On  commencing  his  march  into  England,  Charles  found 
himself  at  the  head  of  an  army  of  between  five  thousand 
and  six  thousand  men,  which  force  was  considered  strong 
enough,  with  the  augmentations  it  might  receive  on  the 
way,  to  effect  the  occupation  of  London.  Had  the  English 
Jacobites  performed  their  part  with  the  same  zeal  as  the 
Scots,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  the  attempt  would  have 
been  crowned  with  success.  As  it  was,  the  Prince  succeeded 
in  reducing  the  strong  fortified  town  of  Carlisle,  and  in 
marching  without  opposition  through  the  heart  of  England, 
as  far  as  Derby,  within  one  hundred  miles  of  the  metropolis. 
But  here  his  better  genius  deserted  him.  Discord  had 
crept  into  his  counsels  ;  for  some  of  the  chiefs  became 
seriously  alarmed  at  finding  that  the  gentry  of  England, 
so  far  from  preparing  to  join  the  expedition,  preferred 


122      LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

remaining  at  home,  inactive  spectators  of  the  contest. 
Except  at  Manchester,  they  had  received  few  or  no  recruits. 
No  tidings  had  reached  them  from  Wales — a  country 
supposed  to  be  devoted  to  the  cause  of  King  James,  whilst 
it  was  well  known  that  a  large  force  was  already  in  arms 
to  oppose  the  clans.  Mr.  Chambers  gives  us  the  following 
details : — "  At  a  council  of  war  held  on  the  morning  of  the 
5th  December,  Lord  George  Murray  and  the  other  members 
gave  it  as  their  unanimous  opinion  that  the  army  ought  to 
return  to  Scotland.  Lord  George  pointed  out  that  they 
were  about  to  be  environed  by  three  armies,  amounting 
collectively  to  about  thirty  thousand  men,  while  their  own 
forces  were  not  above  five  thousand,  if  so  many.  Supposing 
an  unsuccessful  engagement  with  any  of  these  armies,  it 
could  not  be  expected  that  one  man  would  escape,  for  the 
militia  would  beset  every  road.  The  Prince,  if  not  slain  in  the 
battle,  must  fall  into  the  enemy's  hands ;  the  whole  world 
would  blame  them  as  fools  for  running  into  such  a  risk. 
Charles  answered,  that  he  regarded  not  his  own  danger.  He 
pressed,  with  all  the  force  of  argument,  to  go  forward.  He 
did  not  doubt,  he  said,  that  the  justice  of  his  cause  would 
prevail.  He  was  hopeful  that  there  might  be  a  defection  in 
the  enemy's  army,  and  that  many  would  declare  for  him.  He 
was  so  very  bent  on  putting  all  to  the  risk,  that  the  Duke  of 
Perth  was  for  it,  since  his  Royal  Highness  was.  At  last 
he  proposed  going  to  Wales  instead  of  returning  to  Car- 
lisle ;  but  every  other  officer  declared  his  opinion  for  a  re- 
treat. These  are  nearly  the  words  of  Lord  George  Murray. 
We  are  elsewhere  told  that  the  Prince  condescended  to  use 
entreaties  to  induce  his  adherents  to  alter  their  resolution. 
'  Rather  than  go  back,'  he  said,  '  I  would  wish  to  be  twenty 
feet  under  ground ! '  His  chagrin  when  he  found  his 
councillors  obdurate,  was  beyond  all  bounds.  The  council 
broke  up,  on  the  understanding  that  the  retreat  was  to 
commence  next  morning  ;  Lord  George  volunteering  to 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.        123 

take  the  place  of  honor  in  the  rear,  provided  only  that  he 
should  not  be  troubled  with  the  baggage." 

This  resolution  was  received  by  the  army  with  marks  of 
unequivocal  vexation.  Retreat,  in  their  estimation,  was 
little  less  than  overthrow  ;  and  it  was  most  galling  to  find 
that,  after  all  their  labors,  hazards,  and  toils,  they  were 
doomed  to  disappointment  at  the  very  moment  when  the' 
prize  seemed  ready  for  their  grasp.  That  the  movement 
was  an  injudicious  one  is,  I  think,  obvious.  We  are  told, 
upon  good  authority,  "  that  the  very  boldness  of  the 
Prince's  onward  movement,  especially  taken  into  connec- 
tion with  the  expected  descent  from  France,  had  at  length 
disposed  the  English  Jacobites  to  come  out ;  and  many 
were  just  on  the  point  of  declaring  themselves,  and  march- 
ing to  join  his  army,  when  the  retreat  from  Derby  was  de- 
termined on.  A  Mr.  Barry  arrived  in  Derby  two  days  after 
the  Prince  left  it,  with  a  message  from  Sir  Watkin  William 
Wynne  and  Lord  Barrymore,  to  assure  him,  in  the  names 
of  many  friends  of  the  cause,  that  they  were  ready  to  join 
him  in  what  manner  he  pleased,  either  in  the  capital,  or 
every  one  to  rise  in  his  own  country.  I  have  likewise  been 
assured  that  many  of  the  Welsh  gentry  had  actually  left 
their  homes,  and  were  on  the  way  to  join  Charles,  when 
intelligence  of  his  retreat  at  once  sent  them  all  back  peace- 
ably, convinced  that  it  was  now  too  late  to  contribute  their 
assistance.  These  men,  from  the  power  they  had  over 
their  tenantry,  could  have  added  materially  to  his  military 
force.  In  fact,  from  all  that  appears,  we  must  conclude 
that  the  insurgents  had  a  very  considerable  chance  of 
success  from  an  onward  movement — also,  no  doubt,  a 
chance  of  destruction,  and  yet  not  worse  than  what  ulti- 
mately befell  many  of  them  ;  while  a  retreat  broke  in  a  mo- 
ment the  spell  which  their  gallantry  had  conjured  up,  and 
gave  the  enemy  a  great  advantage  over  them." 

One  victory  more  was  accorded  to  Prince  Charles  before 


124      LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

his  final  overthrow.  After  successfully  conducting  his 
retreat  to  Scotland,  occupying  Glasgow,  and  strengthening 
his  army  by  the  accession  of  new  recruits,  he  gave  battle 
to  the  royal  forces  under  General  Hawley  at  Falkirk,  and, 
as  at  Preston,  drove  them  from  the  field.  The  parties 
were  on  this  occasion  fairly  matched,  there  being  about 
eight  thousand  men  engaged  on  either  side.  The  action 
was  short;  and,  though  not  so  decisive  as  the  former 
one,  gave  great  confidence  to  the  insurgents.  It  has  been 
thus  picturesquely  portrayed  by  the  historian  of  the  enter- 
prise : — "  Some  individuals,  who  beheld  the  battle  from  the 
steeple  of  Falkirk,  used  to  describe  its  main  events  as  oc- 
cupying a  surprisingly  brief  space  of  time.  They  first  saw 
the  English  army  enter  the  misty  and  storm-covered  muir 
at  the  top  of  the  hill ;  then  saw  the  dull  atmosphere  thick- 
ened by  a  fast  rolling  smoke,  and  heard  the  pealing  sounds 
of  the  discharge  ;  immediately  after  they  beheld  the  dis- 
comfited troops  burst  wildly  from  the  cloud  in  which  they 
had  been  involved,  and  rush  in  far-spread  disorder  over 
the  face  of  the  hill.  From  the  commencement  to  what  they 
styled  '  the  break  of  the  battle/  there  did  not  intervene 
more  than  ten  minutes — so  soon  may  an  efficient  body  of 
men  become,  by  one  transient  emotion  of  cowardice,  a 
feeble  and  contemptible  rabble. 

"  The  rout  would  have  been  total,  but  for  three  out-flank- 
ing regiments.  These  not  having  been  opposed  by  any  of 
the  clans,  having  a  ravine  in  front,  and  deriving  some  sup- 
port from  a  small  body  of  dragoons,  stood  their  ground 
under  the  command  of  General  Huske  and  Brigadier  Chol- 
mondley.  When  the  Highlanders  went  past  in  pursuit,  they 
received  a  volley  from  this  part  of  the  English  army,  which 
brought  them  to  a  pause,  and  caused  them  to  draw  back 
to  their  former  ground,  their  impression  being  that  some 
ambuscade  was  intended.  This  saved  the  English  army 
from  destruction.  A  pause  took  place,  during  which  the 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.      125 

bulk  of  the  English  infantry  got  back  to  Falkirk.  It  was 
not  until  Lord  George  Murray  brought  up  the  second  line 
of  his  wing  and  the  pickets,  with  some  others  on  the  other 
wing,  that  General  Huske  drew  off  his  party,  which  he  did 
in  good  order." 

The  seat  of  war  was  now  removed  to  the  North.  The 
month  of  April,  1746,  found  Prince  Charles  in  possession  of 
Inverness  with  an  army  sorely  dwindled  in  numbers,  and 
in  great  want  of  necessaries  and  provisions.  Many  of  the 
Highlanders  had  retired  for  the  winter  to  their  native 
glens,  and  had  not  yet  rejoined  the  standard.  The  Duke 
of  Cumberland,  who  now  commanded  the  English  army, 
with  a  reputation  not  diminished  by  the  unfortunate  issue 
of  Fontenoy,  was  at  the  head  of  a  large  body  of  tried  and 
disciplined  troops,  in  the  best  condition,  and  supported  by 
the  powerful  arm  of  artillery. 

He  effected  the  passage  of  the  Spey,  a  large  and  rapid 
river  which  intersects  the  Highlands,  without  encountering 
any  opposition,  and  on  the  i$th  of  the  month  had  arrived 
at  Nairn,  about  nine  miles'  distant  from  the  position  occu- 
pied by  his  kinsman  and  opponent.  His  superiority  in  point 
of  strength  was  so  great  that  the  boldest  of  the  insurgent 
chiefs  hesitated  as  to  the  policy  of  giving  immediate  battle  ; 
and  nothing  but  the  desire  of  covering  Inverness  prevented 
the  council  from  recommending  a  further  retreat  into  the 
mountains,  where  they  could  not  have  been  easily  followed, 
and  where  they  were  certain  to  have  met  with  reinforce- 
ments. As  to  the  Prince,  his  confidence  in  the  prowess  of 
the  Highlanders  was  so  unbounded,  that,  even  with  such 
odds  against  him,  he  would  not  listen  to  a  proposal  for 
delay. 

There  yet  remained,  says  Mr.  Chambers,  before  playing 
the  great  stake  of  a  pitched  battle,  one  chance  of  success, 
by  the  irregular  mode  of  warfare  to  which  the  army  was 
accustomed  ;  and  Charles  resolved  to  put  it  to  trial.  This 


126      LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

was  a  night  attack  upon  the  camp  of  the  Duke  of  Cumber- 
land. He  rightly  argued,  that  if  his  men  could  approach 
without  being  discovered,  and  make  a  simultaneous  attack 
in  more  than  one  place,  the  royal  forces,  then  probably 
either  engaged  in  drinking  their  commander's  health  (the 
1 5th  happened  to  be  the  anniversary  of  the  Duke's  birth- 
day, and  was  celebrated  as  such  by  his  army),  or  sleeping 
off  the  effects  of  the  debauch,  must  be  completely  surprised 
and  cut  to  pieces,  or  at  least  effectually  routed.  The  time 
appointed  for  setting  out  upon  the  march  was  eight  in  the 
evening,  when  daylight  should  have  completely  disappear- 
ed ;  and,  in  the  mean  time,  great  pains  were  taken  to  con- 
ceal the  secret  from  the  army. 

This  resolution  was  entered  into  at  three  in  the  after- 
noon, and  orders  were  given  to  collect  the  men  who  had 
gone  off  in  search  of  provisions.  The  officers  dispersed 
themselves  to  Inverness  and  other  places,  and  besought 
the  stragglers  to  repair  to  the  muir.  But,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  hunger,  they  told  their  commanders  to  shoot  them 
if  they  pleased,  rather  than  compel  them  to  starve  any 
longer.  Charles  had  previously  declared,  with  his  char- 
acteristic fervor,  that  though  only  a  thousand  of  his  men 
accompany  him,  he  would  lead  them  on  to  the  attack ;  and 
he  was  not  now  intimidated  when  he  saw  twice  that  nuiri' 
ber  ready  to  assist  in  the  enterprise  ;  though  some  of  his 
officers  would  willingly  have  made  this  deficiency  of  troops 
an  excuse  for  abandoning  what  they  esteemed  at  best  a 
hazardous  expedition.  Having  given  out  for  watchword 
the  name  of  his  father,  he  embraced  Lord  George  Murray, 
who  was  to  command  the  foremost  column,  and  putting 
himself  at  the  head  of  that  which  followed,  gave  the  order 
to  march. 

The  attempt  proved  peculiarly  unfortunate,  and  from  the 
fatigue  which  it  occasioned  to  the  Highlanders,  contributed 
in  a  great  degree  towards  the  disaster  of  the  following  day. 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.      127 

The  night  chanced  to  be  uncommonly  dark,  and  as  it  was 
well  known  that  Cumberland  had  stationed  spies  on  the 
principal  roads,  it  became  necessary  to  select  a  devious 
route,  in  order  to  effect  a  surprise.  The  columns,  proceed- 
ing over  broken  and  irregular  ground,  soon  became  scatter- 
ed and  dislocated  ;  no  exertions  of  the  officers  could  keep 
the  men  together,  so  that  Lord  George  Murray  at  two 
o'clock  found  that  he  was  still  distant  three  miles  from  the 
hostile  camp,  and  that  there  were  no  hopes  of  commencing 
the  attack  before  the  break  of  day,  when  they  would  be 
open  to  the  observation  of  the  enemy.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances a  retreat  was  commenced  •  and  the  scheme 
which  at  one  time  seemed  to  hold  out  every  probability  of 
success,  was  abandoned. 

"The  Highlanders  returned,  fatigued  and  disconsolate, 
to  their  former  position,  about  seven  in  the  morning,  when 
they  immediately  addressed  themselves  to  sleep,  or  went 
away  in  search  of  provisions.  So  scarce  was  food  at  this 
critical  juncture,  that  the  Prince  himself,  on  retiring  to 
Culloden  House,  could  obtain  no  better  refreshment  than 
a  little  bread  and  whiskey.  He  felt  the  utmost  anxiety  re- 
garding his  men,  among  whom  the  pangs  of  hunger,  upon 
bodies  exhausted  by  fatigue,  must  have  been  working  effects 
most  unpromising  to  his  success  ;  and  he  gave  orders,  be- 
fore seeking  any  repose,  that  the  whole  country  should  now 
be  mercilessly  ransacked  for  the  means  of  refreshments. 
His  orders  were  not  without  effect.  Considerable  supplies 
were  procured,  and  subjected  to  the  cook's  art  at  Inver- 
ness ;  but  the  poor  famished  clansmen  were  destined  never 
to  taste  these  provisions,  the  hour  of  battle  arriving  before 
they  were  prepared.  " 

About  eleven  in  the  forenoon,  the  troops  of  Cumberland 
were  observed  upon  the  eastern  extremity  of  the  wide  muir 
of  Culloden,  and  preparations  were  instantly  made  for  the 
coming  battle.  The  army  had  been  strengthened  that 


128      LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

morning  by  the  arrival  of  the  Keppoch  Macdonalds  and  a 
party  of  the  Frazers  ;  but,  even  with  these  reinforcements, 
the  whole  available  force  which  the  Prince  could  muster 
was  about  five  thousand  men,  to  oppose  at  fearful  odds  an 
enemy  twice  as  numerous,  and  heavily  supported  by  artil- 
lery. Fortune  on  this  day  seemed  to  have  deserted  the 
Prince  altogether.  In  drawing  out  the  line  of  battle,  a 
most  unlucky  arrangement  was  made  by  O'Sullivan,  who 
acted  as  adjutant,  whereby  the  Macdonald  regiments  were 
removed  from  the  right  wing — the  place  which  the  great 
Clan  Coila  has  been  privileged  to  hold  in  Scottish  array 
ever  since  the  auspicious  battle  of  Bannockburn.  To  those 
who  are  not  acquainted  with  the  peculiar  temper  and  spirit 
of  the  Highlanders,  and  their  punctilio  upon  points  of 
honor  and  precedence,  the  question  of  arrangement  will 
naturally  appear  a  matter  of  little  importance.  But  it  was 
not  so  felt  by  the  Macdonalds,  who  considered  their  change 
of  position  as  a  positive  degradation,  and  who  further 
looked  upon  it  as  an  evil  omen  to  the  success  of  the  battle. 
The  results  of  this  mistake  will  be  noticed  immediately. 

Just  before  the  commencement  of  the  action,  the  weather, 
which  had  hitherto  been  fair  and  sunny,  became  overcast, 
and  a  heavy  blast  of  rain  and  sleet  beat  directly  in  the 
faces  of  the  Highlanders.  The  English  artillery  then  be- 
gan to  play  upon  them,  and,  being  admirably  served,  every 
discharge  told  with  fearful  effect  upon  the  ranks.  The 
chief  object  of  either  party  at  the  battle  of  Culloclen  seems 
to  have  been  to  force  its  opponent  to  leave  his  position, 
and  to  commence  the  attack.  Cumberland,  finding  that 
his  artillery  was  doing  such  execution,  had  no  occasion  to 
move  ;  and  Charles  appears  to  have  committed  a  great 
error  in  abandoning  a  mode  of  warfare  which  was  peculiarly 
suited  for  his  troops,  and  which  on  two  previous  occasions 
had  proved  eminently  successful.  Had  he  at  once  ordered 
a  general  charge,  and  attempted  to  silence  the  guns,  the 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.      129 

issue  of  the  day  might  have  been  otherwise  ;  but  his  unfor- 
tunate star  prevailed. 

"  It  was  not,"  says  Mr.  Chambers,  "  till  the  cannonade 
had  continued  nearly  half  an  hour,  and  the  Highlanders 
had  seen  many  of  their  kindred  stretched  upon  the  heath, 
that  Charles  at  last  gave  way  to  the  necessity  of  ordering  a 
charge.  The  aide-de-camp  intrusted  to  carry  his  message 
to  the  lieutenant-general — a  youth  of  the  name  of  Maclach- 
Ian — was  killed  by  a  cannon-ball  before  he  reached  the 
first  line ;  but  the  general  sentiment  of  the  army,  as  re- 
ported to  Lord  George  Murray,  supplied  the  want,  and 
that  general  took  it  upon  him  to  order  an  attack  without 
Charles's  permission  having  been  communicated. 

"  Lord  George  had  scarcely  determined  upon  ordering  a 
general  movement,  when  the  Macintoshes,  a  brave  and 
devoted  clan,  though  not  before  engaged  in  action,  unable 
any  longer  to  brook  the  unavenged  slaughter  made  by  the 
cannon,  broke  from  the  centre  of  the  line,  and  rushed  for- 
ward through  smoke  and  snow  to  mingle  with  the  enemy. 
The  Athole  men,  Camerons,  Stuarts,  Frasers,  and  Mac- 
leans, also  went  on  ;  Lord  George  Murray  heading  them 
with  that  rash  bravery  befitting  the  commander  of  such 
forces.  Thus,  in  the  course  of  one  or  two  minutes,  the 
charge  was  general  along  the  whole  line,  except  at  the  left 
extremity,  where  the  Macdonalds,  dissatisfied  with  their 
position,  hesitated  to  engage. 

"  The  action  and  event  of  the  onset  were,  throughout* 
quite  as  dreadful  as  the  mental  emotion  which  urged  it 
Notwithstanding  that  the  three  files  of  the  front  line  o_ 
English  poured  forth  their  incessant  fire  of  musketry-— 
notwithstanding  that  the  cannon,  now  loaded  with  grape- 
shot,  swept  the  field  as  with  a  hail-storm — notwithstanding 
the  flank  fire  of  Wolfe's  regiment — onward,  onward  went 
the  headlong  Highlanders,  flinging  themselves  into,  rather 
than  rushing  upon,  the  lines  of  the  enemy,  which,  indeed, 


130       LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

they  did  not  see  for  smoke,  till  involved  among  the 
weapons.  All  that  courage,  all  that  despair  could  do,  was 
done.  It  was  a  moment  of  dreadful  and  agonizing  sus- 
pense, but  only  a  moment — for  the  whirlwind  does  not  reap 
the  forest  with  greater  rapidity  than  the  Highlanders 
cleared  the  line.  Nevertheless,  almost  every  man  in  their 
front  rank,  chief  and  gentleman,  fell  before  the  deadly 
weapons  which  they  had  braved ;  and  although  the  enemy 
gave  way,  it  was  not  till  every  bayonet  was  bent  and  bloody 
with  the  strife. 

"  When  the  first  line  had  thus  been  swept  aside,  the 
assailants  continued  their  impetuous  advance  till  they  came 
near  the  second,  when,  being  almost  annihilated  by  a  pro- 
fuse and  well-directed  fire,  the  shattered  remains  of  what 
had  been  before  a  numerous  and  confident  force  began  to 
give  way.  Still  a  few  rushed  on,  resolved  rather  to  die 
than  forfeit  their  well-acquired  and  dearly  estimated  honor. 
They  rushed  on  ;  but  not  a  man  ever  came  in  contact  with 
the  enemy.  The  last  survivor  perished  as  he  reached  the 
points  of  the  bayonets." 

Some  idea  of  the  determination  displayed  by  the  High- 
landers in  this  terrific  charge  may  be  gathered  from  the 
fact  that,  in  one  part  of  the  field,  their  bodies  were  after- 
wards found  in  layers  of  three  and  four  deep.  The  slaugh- 
ter was  fearful ;  for,  out  of  the  five  regiments  which  charged 
the  English,  almost  all  the  leaders  and  men  in  the  front 
rank  were  killed.  So  shaken  was  the  English  line,  that, 
had  the  Macdonald  regiments,  well  known  to  yield  in  valor 
to  none  of  the  clans,  come  up,  the  fortune  of  the  day  might 
have  been  altered.  But  they  never  made  an  onset. 
Smarting  and  sullen  at  the  affront  which  they  conceived  to 
have  been  put  upon  their  name,  they  bore  the  fire  of  the 
English  regiments  without  flinching,  and  gave  way  to  their 
rage  by  hewing  at  the  heather  with  their  swords.  In  vain 
their  chiefs  exhorted  them  to  go  forward ;  even  at  that  ter- 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.       131 

rible  moment  the  pride  of  clanship  prevailed.  "  My  God  1 " 
cried  Macdonald  of  Keppoch,  "  has  it  come  to  this,  that 
the  children  of  my  tribe  have  forsaken  me  !  "  and  he  rushed 
forward  alone,  sword  in  hand,  with  the  devotion  of  an  an- 
cient hero,  and  fell  pierced  with  bullets. 

The  Lowland  and  foreign  troops  which  formed  the 
second  line  were  powerless  to  retrieve  the  disaster.  All 
was  over.  The  rout  became  general,  and  the  Prince  was 
forced  from  the  field,  which  he  would  not  quit  until  dragged 
from  it  by  his  immediate  body-guard. 

Such  was  the  last  battle,  the  result  of  civil  war,  which 
has  been  fought  on  British  soil.  Those  who  were  defeated 
have  acquired  as  much  glory  from  it  as  the  conquerors — 
and  even  more,  for  never  was  a  conquest  sullied  by  such 
deeds  of  deliberate  cruelty  as  were  perpetrated  upon  the 
survivors  of  the  battle  of  Culloden.  It  is  not,  however, 
the  object  of  the  present  paper  to  recount  these,  or  even 
the  romantic  history  and  hair-breadth  escapes  of  the 
Prince,  whilst  wandering  on  the  mainland  and  through  the 
Hebrides.  Although  a  reward  of  thirty  thousand  pounds 
(an  immense  sum  for  the  period)  was  set  upon  his  head—- 
although his  secret  was  known  to  hundreds  of  persons  in 
every  walk  of  life,  and  even  to  the  beggar  and  the  outlaw — 
not  one  attempted  to  betray  him.  Not  one  of  all  his  fol- 
lowers, in  the  midst  of  the  misery  which  overtook  them, 
regretted  having  drawn  the  sword  in  his  cause,  or  would 
not  again  have  gladly  imperilled  their  lives  for  the  sake  of 
their  beloved  Chevalier.  "  He  went,"  says  Lord  Mahon, 
"but  not  with  him  departed  his  remembrance  from  the 
Highlanders.  For  years  and  years  did  his  name  continue 
enshrined  in  their  hearts  and  familiar  to  their  tongues, 
their  plaintive  ditties  resounding  with  his  exploits  and  in- 
viting his  return.  Again,  in  these  strains,  do  they  declare 
themselves  ready  to  risk  life  and  fortune  for  his  cause  ; 
and  even  maternal  fondness — the  strongest,  perhaps,  of  all 


I32     LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

human  feelings — yields  to  the  passionate  devotion  to  Prince 
Charlie." 

The  subsequent  life  of  the  Prince  is  a  story  of  melan- 
choly interest.  We  find  him  at  first  received  in  France 
with  all  the  honors  due  to  one  who,  though  unfortunate, 
had  exhibited  a  heroism  rarely  equalled  and  never  sur- 
passed ;  gradually  he  was  neglected  and  slighted,  as  one 
of  a  doomed  and  unhappy  race,  whom  no  human  exertion 
could  avail  to  elevate  to  their  former  seat  of  power ;  and 
finally,  when  his  presence  in  France  became  an  obstacle 
to  the  conclusion  of  peace,  he  was  violently  arrested  and 
conveyed  out  of  the  kingdom.  There  can  be  little  doubt 
that  continued  misfortune  and  disappointment  had  begun 
very  early  to  impair  his  noble  mind.  For  long  periods  he 
was  a  wanderer,  lost  sight  of  by  his  friends,  and  even  by 
his  father  and  brother.  There  are  fragments  of  his  writing 
extant  which  show  how  poignantly  he  felt  the  cruelty  of 
his  fortune.  "  De  vivre  et  pas  vivre  est  beaucoup  plus  que 
de  mourir !  "  And  again,  writing  to  his  father's  secretary, 
eight  years  after  Culloden,  he  says:  "  I  am  grieved  that 
our  master  should  think  that  my  silence  was  either  neglect 
or  want  of  duty  ;  but,  in  reality,  my  situation  is  such  that 
I  have  nothing  to  say  but  imprecations  against  the  fatality 
of  being  born  in  such  a  detestable  age."  An  unhappy  and 
uncongenial  marriage  tended  still  more  to  embitter  his 
existence ;  and  if  at  last  he  yielded  to  frailties  which 
inevitably  insure  degradation,  it  must  be  remembered  that 
his  lot  had  been  one  to  which  few  men  have  ever  been 
exposed,  and  the  magnitude  of  his  sufferings  may  fairly  be 
admitted  as  some  palliation  for  his  weakness. 

To  the  last  his  heart  was  with  Scotland.  The  following 
anecdote  was  related  by  his  brother,  Cardinal  York,  to 
Bishop  Walker,  the  late  Primus  of  the  Episcopal  Church 
of  Scotland :  "  Mr.  Greathead,  a  personal  friend  of  Mr. 
Fox,  succeeded,  when  at  Rome  in  1782  or  1783,  in  obtain- 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.       133 

ing  an  interview  with  Charles  Edward  ;  and,  being  alone 
with  him  for  some  time,  studiously  led  the  conversation  to 
his  enterprise  in  Scotland,  and  to  the  occurrences  which 
succeeded  the  failure  of  that  attempt.  The  Prince  mani- 
fested some  reluctance  to  enter  upon  these  topics,  appear- 
ing at  the  same  time  to  undergo  so  much  mental  suffering, 
that  his  guest  regretted  the  freedom  he  had  used  in  calling 
up  the  remembrance  of  his  misfortunes.  At  length,  how- 
ever, the  Prince  seemed  to  shake  off  the  load  which 
oppressed  him ;  his  eye  brightened,  his  face  assumed  un- 
wonted animation,  and  he  entered  upon  the  narrative  of 
his  Scottish  campaigns  with  a  distinct  but  somewhat  vehe- 
ment energy  of  manner — recounted  his  marches,  his  battles, 
his  victories,  his  retreats,  and  his  defeats — detailed  his 
hairbreadth  escapes  in  the  Western  Isles,  the  inviolable 
and  devoted  attachment  of  his  Highland  friends,  and  at 
length  proceeded  to  allude  to  the  terrible  penalties  with 
which  the  chiefs  among  them  had  been  visited.  But  here 
the  tide  of  emotion  rose  too  high  to  allow  him  to  go  on— 
his  voice  faltered,  his  eyes  became  fixed,  and  he  fell  con- 
vulsed on  the  floor.  The  noise  brought  into  his  room  his 
daughter,  the  Duchess  of  Albany,  who  happened  to  be  in 
an  adjoining  apartment.  'Sir,'  she  exclaimed,  'what  is 
this  ?  You  have  been  speaking  to  my  father  about  Scot- 
land and  the  Highlanders!  No  one  dares  to  mention 
those  subjects  in  his  presence.' " 

He  died  on  the  3oth  January,  1788,  in  the  arms  of  the 
Master  of  Nairn.  The  monument  erected  to  him,  his 
father,  and  brother,  in  St.  Peter's,  by  desire  of  George  IV., 
was  perhaps  the  most  graceful  tribute  ever  paid  by  royalty 
to  misfortune — REGIO  CINERI  PIETAS  REGIA. 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES. 

ON    THE   ANNIVERSARY    OF    CULLODEN. 


TAKE  away  that  star  and  garter — 

Hide  them  from  my  aching  sight ! 
Neither  king  nor  prince  shall  tempt  me 

From  my  lonely  room  this  night. 
Fitting  for  the  throneless  exile 

Is  the  atmosphere  of  pall, 
And  the  gusty  winds  that  shiver 

'Neath  the  tapestry  on  the  wall ; 
When  the  taper  faintly  dwindles 

Like  the  pulse  within  the  vein, 
That  to  gay  and  merry  measure 

Ne'er  may  hope  to  bound  again. 
Let  the  shadows  gather  round  me 

While  I  sit  in  silence  here, 
Broken-hearted,  as  an  orphan 

Watching  by  his  father's  bier. 
Let  me  hold  my  still  communion 

Far  from  every  earthly  sound — 
Day  of  penance — day  of  passion — 

Ever  as  the  year  comes  round : 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.       135 

Fatal  day !  whereon  the  latest 

Die  was  cast  for  me  and  mine — 
Cruel  day,  that  quelled  the  fortunes 

Of  the  hapless  Stuart  line  ! 
Phantom-like,  as  in  a  mirror, 

Rise  the  griesly  scenes  of  Death — 
There  before  me  in  its  wildness, 

Stretches  bare  Culloden's  heath  : 
There  the  broken  clans  are  scattered, 

Gaunt  as  wolves  and  famine-eyed, 
Hunger  gnawing  at  their  vitals, 

Hope  abandoned,  all  but  pride — 
Pride — and  that  supreme  devotion 

Which  the  Southron  never  knew, 
And  the  hatred,  deeply  rankling, 

'Gainst  the  Hanoverian  crew. 
Oh,  my  God !  are  these  the  remnants, 

These  the  wrecks  of  the  array, 
That  around  the  royal  standard 

Gathered  on  the  glorious  day, 
When  in  deep  Glenfinnan's  valley, 

Thousands  on  their  bended  knees 
Saw  once  more  that  stately  ensign 

Waving  in  the  northern  breeze ! 
When  the  noble  Tullibardine 

Stood  beneath  its  weltering  fold, 
With  the  Ruddy  Lion  ramping 

In  its  field  of  tressured  gold  ! 
When  the  mighty  heart  of  Scotland, 

All  too  big  to  slumber  more, 
Burst  in  wrath  and  exultation 

Like  a  husce  volcano's  roar ! 


136       LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

There  they  stand,  the  battered  columns, 

Underneath  the  murky  sky, 
In  the  hush  of  desperation, 

Not  to  conquer,  but  to  die. 
Hark  !  the  bagpipe's  fitful  wailing  : 

Not  the  pibroch  loud  and  shrill, 
That,  with  hope  of  bloody  banquet, 

Lured  the  ravens  from  the  hill — 
But  a  dirge  both  low  and  solemn, 

Fit  for  ears  of  dying  men, 
Marshalled  for  their  latest  battle, 

Never  more  to  fight  again. 
Madness — madness !  Why  this  shrinking  ? 

Were  we  less  inured  to  war 
When  our  reapers  swept  the  harvest 

From  the  field  of  red  Dunbar  ? 
Bring  my  horse,  and  blow  the  trumpet, 

Call  the  riders  of  Fitz-James : 
Let  Lord  Lewis  head  the  column 

Valiant  chiefs  of  mighty  names — 
Trusty  Keppoch  !  stout  Glengarry  ! 

Gallant  Gordon  !  wise  Locheill ! 
Bid  the  clansmen  hold  together, 

Fast  and  fell,  and  firm  as  steel. 
Elcho  !  never  look  so  gloomy — 

What  avails  a  saddened  brow  ? 
Heart,  man  !  heart !  We  need  it  sorely, 

Never  half  so  much  as  now. 
Had  we  but  a  thousand  troopers, 

Had  we  but  a  thousand  more  ! 
Noble  Perth,  I  hear  them  coming 

Hark  !  the  English  cannon's  roar. 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.       137 

God  !    how  awful  sounds  that  volley, 

Bellowing  through  the  mist  and  rain  ! 
Was  not  that  the  Highland  slogan  ? 

Let  me  hear  that  shout  again  ! 
Oh,  for  prophet  eyes  to  witness 

How  the  desperate  battle  goes ! 
Cumberland  !  I  would  not  fear  thee 

Could  my  Camerons  see  their  foes. 
Sound,  I  say,  the  charge  at  venture — 

'Tis  not  naked  steel  we  fear : 
Better  perish  in  the  mele"e 

Than  be  shot  like  driven  deer! 
Hold  !   the  mist  begins  to  scatter  ! 

There  in  front  'tis  rent  asunder, 
And  the  cloudy  bastion  trembles 

Underneath  the  deafening  thunder. 
There  I  see  the  scarlet  gleaming! 

Now,  Macdonald, — now  or  never ! — 
Woe  is  me,  the  clans  are  broken  ! 

Father,  thou  art  lost  for  ever  ! 
Chief  and  vassal,  lord  and  yeoman, 

There  they  lie  in  heaps  together, 
Smitten  by  the  deadly  volley, 

Rolled  in  blood  upon  the  heather  ; 
And  the  Hanoverian  horsemen, 

Fiercely  riding  to  and  fro, 
Deal  their  murderous  strokes  at  random. 

Ah,  my  God  !  where  am  I  now  ? 
Will  that  baleful  vision  never 

Vanish  from  my  aching  sight  ? 
Must  those  scenes  and  sounds  of  terror 

Haunt  me  still  by  day  and  night  ? 


138       LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

Yea!  the  earth  hath  no  oblivion 

For  the  noblest  chance  it  gave, 
None,  save  in  its  latest  refuge — 

Seek  it  only  in  the  grave  ! 
Love  may  die,  and  hatred  slumber, 

And  their  memory  will  decay, 
As  the  watered  garden  recks  not 

Of  the  drought  of  yesterday ; 
But  the  dream  of  power  once  broken, 

What  shall  give  repose  again  ? 
What  shall  charm  the  serpent-furies 

Coiled  around  the  maddening  brain  ? 
What  kind  draught  can  nature  offer 

Strong  enough  to  lull  their  sting  ? 
Better  to  be  born  a  peasant 

Than  to  live  an  exiled  king  ! 
Oh,  these  years  of  bitter  anguish ! — 

What  is  life  to  such  as  me, 
With  my  very  heart  as  palsied 

As  a  wasted  cripple's  knee ! 
Suppliant-like  for  alms  depending 

On  a  false  and  foreign  court ; 
Jostled  by  the  flouting  nobles, 

Half  their  pity,  half  their  sport, 
Forced  to  hold  a  place  in  pageant 

Like  a  royal  prize  of  war, 
Walking  with  dejected  features 

Close  behind  his  victor's  car  ; 
Styled  an  equal — deemed  a  servant — 

Fed  with  hopes  of  future  gain : 
Worse  by  far  is  fancied  freedom 

Than  the  captive's  clanking  chain  ! 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.        *39 

Could  I  change  this  gilded  bondage 

Even  for  the  dusky  tower, 
Whence  King  James  beheld  his  lady 

Sitting  in  the  castle  bower ; 
Birds  around  her  sweetly  singing, 

Fluttering  on  the  kindled  spray, 
And  the  comely  garden  glowing 

In  the  light  of  rosy  May. 
Love  descended  to  the  window — 

Love  removed  the  bolt  and  bar- 
Love  was  warder  to  the  lovers 

From  the  dawn  to  even-star. 
Wherefore,  Love  !  didst  thou  betray  me  ? 

Where  is  now  the  tender  glance — 
Where  the  meaning  jooks  once  lavished 

By  the  dark-eyed  Maid  of  France  ? 
Where  the  words  of  hope  she  whispered, 

When  around  my  neck  she  threw 
That  same  scarf  of  broidered  tissue, 

Bade  me  wear  it  and  be  true — 
Bade  me  send  it  as  a  token 

When  my  banner  waved  once  more 
On  the  castled  Keep  of  London, 

Where  my  father's  waved  before  ? 
And  I  went  and  did  not  conquer — 

But  I  brought  it  back  again — 
Brought  it  back  from  storm  and  battle — 

Brought  it  back  without  a  stain  ; 
And  once  more  I  knelt  before  her, 

And  I  laid  it  at  her  feet, 
Saying,  "  Wilt  thou  own  it,  Princess  ? 

There  at  least  is  no  defeat !  " 


140      LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

Scornfully  she  looked  upon  me 

With  a  measured  eye  and  cold — 
Scornfully  she  viewed  the  token, 

Though  her  fingers  wrought  the  gold ; 
And  she  answered,  faintly  flushing, 

"  Hast  thou  kept  it,  then,  so  long  ? 
Worthy  matter  for  a  minstrel 

To  be  told  in  knightly  song  ! 
Worthy  of  a  bold  Provencal, 

Pacing  o'er  the  peaceful  plain, 
Singing  of  his  lady's  favor, 

Boasting  of  her  silken  chain — 
Yet  scarce  worthy  of  a  warrior 

Sent  to  wrestle  for  a  crown  ! 
Is  this  all  that  thou  hast  brought  me 

From  thy  fields  of  high  renown  ? 
Is  this  all  the  trophy  carried 

From  the  lands  where  thou  hast  been  ? 
It  was  broidered  by  a  Princess — 

Canst  thou  give  it  to  a  Queen  ? " 
Woman's  love  is  writ  in  water  ! 

Woman's  faith  is  traced  on  sand  ! — 
Backwards — backwards  let  me  wander 

To  the  noble  northern  land : 
Let  me  feel  the  breezes  blowing 

Fresh  along  the  mountain-side  ! 
Let  me  see  the  purple  heather, 

Let  me  hear  the  thundering  tide, 
Be  it  hoarse  as  Corrievreckan 

Spouting  when  the  storm  is  high — . 
Give  me  but  one  hour  of  Scotland — 

Let  me  see  it  ere  I  die  ! 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES. 

Oh  !  my  heart  is  sick  and  heavy — 

Southern  gales  are  not  for  me  ; 
Though  the  glens  are  white  with  winter, 

Place  me  there  and  set  me  free. 
Give  me  back  my  trusty  comrades — 

Give  me  back  my  Highland  maid — 
Nowhere  beats  the  heart  so  kindly 

As  beneath  the  tartan  plaid  ! 
Flora  !  when  thou  wert  beside  me, 

In  the  wilds  of  far  Kintail — 
When  the  cavern  gave  us  shelter 

From  the  blinding  sleet  and  hail — 
When  we  lurked  within  the  thicket, 

And,  beneath  the  waning  moon, 
Saw  the  sentry's  bayonet  glimmer, 

Heard  him  chant  his  listless  time — 
When  the  howling  storm  overtook  us, 

Drifting  down  the  island's  lee, 
And  our  crazy  bark  was  whirling 

Like  a  nutshell  on  the  sea — 
When  the  nights  were  dark  and  dreary, 

And  amidst  the  fern  we  lay, 
Faint  and  foodless,  sore  with  travel, 

Waiting  for  the  streaks  of  day; 
When  thou  wert  an  angel  to  me, 

Watching  my  exhausted  sleep — 
Never  didst  thou  hear  me  murmur — 

Could  st  thou  see  how  now  I  weep  ! 
Bitter  tears  and  sobs  of  anguish, 

Unavailing  though  they  be. 
Oh  !  the  brave — the  brave  and  noble — 

That  have  died  in  vain  for  me  ! 


142       LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 


NOTES  TO  "CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES. 


"  Could  I  change  this  gilded  bondage 

Even  for  the  dusky  tower, 
Whence  King  James  beheld  his  lady 

Sitting  in  the  casile  bower" — P.  139. 

JAMES  I.  of  Scotland,  one  of  the  most  accomplished 
kings  that  ever  sat  upon  a  throne,  is  the  person  here  indi- 
cated. His  history  is  a  very  strange  and  romantic  one. 
He  was  son  of  Robert  III.,  and  immediate  younger  brother 
of  that  unhappy  Duke  of  Rothesay  who  was  murdered  at 
Falkland.  His  father,  apprehensive  of  the  designs  and 
treachery  of  Albany,  had  determined  to  remove  him,  when 
a  mere  boy,  for  a  season  from  Scotland ;  and  as  France 
was  then  considered  the  best  school  for  the  education  of 
one  so  important  from  his  high  position,  it  was  resolved  to 
send  him  thither,  under  the  care  of  the  Earl  of  Orkney, 
and  Fleming  of  Cumbernauld.  He  accordingly  embarked 
at  North  Berwick,  with  little  escort — as  there  was  a  truce 
for  the  time  between  England  and  Scotland,  and  they  were 
under  no  apprehension  of  meeting  with  any  vessels,  save 
those  of  the  former  nation.  Notwithstanding  this,  the  ship 
which  carried  the  Prince  was  captured  by  an  armed  mer- 
chantman, and  carried  to  London,  where  Henry  IV.,  the 
usurping  Bolingbroke,  utterly  regardless  of  treaties,  com- 
mitted him  and  his  attendants  to  the  Tower. 

"  In  vain,"  says  Mr.  Tytler,  "  did  the  guardians  of  the 
young  Prince  remonstrate  against  this  cruelty,  or  present 
to  Henry  a  letter  from  the  King  his  father,  which,  with 
much  simplicity,  recommended  him  to  the  kindness  of  the 
English  monarch,  should  he  find  it  necessary  to  land  in  his 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.      143 

dominions.  In  vain  did  they  represent  that  the  mission  to 
France  was  perfectly  pacific,  and  its  only  object  the  educa- 
tion of  the  Prince  at  the  French  Court.  Henry  merely- 
answered  by  a  pqor  witticism,  declaring  that  he  himself 
knew  the  French  language  indifferently  well,  and  that  his 
father  could  not  have  sent  him  to  a  better  master.  So 
flagrant  a  breach  of  the  law  of  nations  as  the  seizure  and 
imprisonment  of  the  heir-apparent,  during  the  time  of 
truce,  would  have  called  for  the  most  violent  remonstrances 
from  any  government  except  that  of  Albany.  But  to  this 
usurper  of  the  supreme  power,  the  capture  of  the  Prince 
was  the  most  grateful  event  which  could  have  happened  j 
and  to  detain  him  in  captivity  became,  from  this  moment, 
one  of  the  principal  objects  of  his  future  life ;  we  are  not 
to  wonder,  then,  that  the  conduct  of  Henry  not  only  drew 
forth  no  indignation  from  the  governor,  but  was  not  even 
followed  by  any  request  that  the  Prince  should  be  set  at 
liberty. 

"The  aged  King,  already  worn  out  by  infirmity,  and 
now  broken  by  disappointment  and  sorrow,  did  not  long 
survive  the  captivity  of  his  son.  It  is  said  the  melancholy 
news  was  brought  him  as  he  was  sitting  down  to  supper 
in  his  palace  of  Rothesay  in  Bute,  and  that  the  effect  was 
such  upon  his  affectionate  but  feeble  spirit,  that  he  drooped 
from  that  day  forward,  refused  all  sustenance,  and  died 
soon  after  of  a  broken  heart." 

James  was  finally  incarcerated  in  Windsor  Castle,  where 
he  endured  an  imprisonment  of  nineteen  years.  Henry, 
though  he  has  not  hesitated  to  commit  a  heinous  breach  of 
faith,  was  not  so  cruel  as  to  neglect  the  education  of  his 
captive.  The  young  King  was  supplied  with  the  best  mas- 
ters, and  gradually  became  an  adept  in  all  the  accomplish- 
ments of  the  age.  He  is  a  singular  exception  from  the 
rule  which  maintains  that  monarchs  are  indifferent  authors. 
As  a  poet,  he  is  entitled  to  a  very  high  rank  indeed — being, 


144      LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

I  think,  in  point  of  sweetness  and  melody  of  verse,  not 
much  inferior  to  Chaucer.  From  the  window  of  his  cham- 
ber in  the  Tower  he  had  often  seen  a  young  lady,  of  great 
beauty  and  grace,  walking  in  the  garden  ;  and  the  admira- 
tion which  at  once  possessed  him  soon  ripened  into  love. 
This  was  Lady  Jane  Beaufort,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of 
Somerset,  a  niece  of  Henry  IV.,  and  who  afterwards  be- 
came his  queen.  How  he  loved  and  how  he  wooed  her  is 
told  in  his  own  beautiful  poem  of  the  King's  Quhair,"  of 
which  the  following  are  a  few  stanzas  : — 

"  Now  there  was  made,  fast  by  the  towris  wall, 
A  garden  fair  ;  and  in  the  corners  set 
An  arbour  green,  with  wandis  long  and  small 
Railed  about,  and  so  with  trees  set 
Was  all  the  place,  and  hawthorn  hedges  knet, 
That  lyf  was  none  walking  there  forbye, 
That  might  within  scarce  any  wight  espy. 

"  So  thick  the  boughis  and  the  leavis  greene 
Beshaded  all  the  alleys  that  there  were, 
And  mids  of  every  arbour  might  be  seen 
The  sharpe,  greene,  sweete  juniper, 
Growing  so  fair,  with  branches  here  and  there, 
That,  as  it  seemed  to  a  lyf  without, 
The  boughis  spread  the  arbour  all  about. 

"  And  on  the  smalle  greene  twistis  sat 

The  little  sweete  nightingale,  and  sung 

So  loud  and  clear  the  hymnis  consecrat 

Of  lovis  use,  now  soft,  now  loud  among, 

That  all  the  gardens  and  the  wallis  rung 

Right  of  their  song. 
"  And  therewith  cast  I  down  mine  eyes  again, 

Whereat  I  saw,  walking  under  the  tower, 

Full  secretly,  now  comen  here  to  plain, 

The  fairest  or  the  freshest  younge  flower 

That  e'er  I  saw,  methought,  before  that  hour  j 

For  which  sudden  abate,  anon  astart 

The  blood  of  all  my  body  to  my  heart. 


CHARLES  EDWARD  AT  VERSAILLES.      145 

And  though  I  stood  abasit  for  a  lite, 

No  wonder  was  ;  for  why  ?  my  wittis  all 

Were  so  o'ercome  with  pleasance  and  delight — 

Only  through  letting  of  my  eyen  fall — 

That  suddenly  my  heart  became  her  thrall 

For  ever  of  free  will,  for  of  menace 

There  was  no  token  in  her  sweete  face." 


"  Wherefore,  Love  !  didst  thou  betray  me  ? 

WJiere  is  now  the  tender  glance — 
•  Wliere  the  meaning  looks  once  lavished 

By  the  dark-eyed  Maid  of  France  ?  " — P.  139. 

There  appears  to  be  no  doubt  that  Prince  Charles  was 
deeply  attached  to  one  of  the.  princesses  of  the  royal  fam- 
ily of  France.  In  the  interesting  collection  called  "  Jacob- 
ite Memoirs,"  compiled  by  Mr.  Chambers  from  the  volum- 
inous MSS.  of  Bishop  Forbes,  we  find  the  folio  wing  passage 
from  the  narrative  of  Donald  Macleod,  who  acted  as  a  guide 
to  the  wanderer  whilst  traversing  the  Hebrides  : — "  When 
Donald  was  asked,  if  ever  the  Prince  used  to  give  any 
particular  toast,  when  they  were  taking  a  cup  of  cold  water, 
or  the  like ;  he  said  that  the  Prince  very  often  drank  to 
the  Black  Eye — by  which,  said  Donald,  he  meant  the  sec- 
ond daughter  of  France,  and  I  never  heard  him  name  any 
particular  health  but  that  alone.  When  he  spoke  of  that 
lady — which  he  did  frequently — he  appeared  to  be  more 
than  ordinarily  well  pleased." 


THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER. 


THE  "  gentle  Locheill  "  may  be  considered  as  the  pattern 
of  a  Highland  Chief.  Others  who  joined  the  insurrection 
may  have  been  actuated  by  motives  of  personal  ambition, 
and  by  a  desire  for  aggrandizement ;  but  no  such  charge 
can  be  made  against  the  generous  and  devoted  Cameron. 
He  was,  as  we  have  already  seen,  the  first  who  attempted 
to  dissuade  the  Prince  from  embarking  in  an  enterprise 
which  he  conscientiously  believed  to  be  desperate  ;  but, 
having  failed  in  doing  so,  he  nobly  stood  firm  to  the  cause 
which  his  conscience  vindicated  as  just,  and  cheerfully  im- 
perilled his  life,  and  sacrificed  his  fortune,  for  the  sake  of 
his  master.  There  was  no  one,  even  among  those  who 
espoused  the  other  side,  in  Scotland,  who  did  not  commise- 
rate the  misfortunes  of  this  truly  excellent  man,  whose  hu- 
manity was  not  less  conspicuous  than  his  valor  through- 
out the  civil  war,  and  who  died  in  exile  of  a  broken  heart. 

Perhaps  the  best  type  of  the  Lowland  Cavalier  of  that 
period  may  be  found  in  the  person  of  Alexander  Forbes, 
Lord  Pitsligo,  a  nobleman  whose  conscientious  views  im- 
pelled him  to  take  a  different  side  from  that  adopted  by 
the  greater  part  of  his  house  and  name.  Lord  Forbes,  the 
head  of  this  very  ancient  and  honorable  family,  was  one 
of  the  first  Scottish  noblemen  who  declared  for  King  Wil- 


THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIER.  147 

liam.  Lord  Pitsligo,  on  the  contrary,  who  had  been  edu- 
cated abroad,  and  early  introduced  to  the  circle  at  St. 
Germains,  conceived  a  deep  personal  attachment  to  the 
members  of  the  exile  line.  He  was  any  thing  but  an  en- 
thusiast, as  his  philosophical  and  religious  writings,  well 
worthy  of  a  perusal,  will  show.  He  was  the  intimate  friend 
of  Fenelon,  and  throughout  his  whole  life  was  remarkable 
rather  for  his  piety  and  virtue  than  for  keenness  in  politi- 
cal dispute. 

After  his  return  from  France,  Lord  Pitsligo  took  his  seat 
in  the  Scottish  Parliament,  and  his  parliamentary  career 
has  thus  been  characterized  by  a  former  writer.*  "  Here 
it  is  no  discredit  either  to  his  head  or  heart  to  say,  that, 
obliged  to  become  a  member  of  one  of  the  contending  fac- 
tions of  the  time,  he  adopted  that  which  had  for  its  object 
the  independence  of  Scotland,  and  restoration  of  the  an- 
cient race  of  monarchs.  The  advantage's  which  were  in 
future  to  arise  from  the  great  measure  of  a  national  union 
were  so  hidden  by  the  mists  of  prejudice,  that  it  cannot  be 
wondered  at  if  Lord  Pitsligo,  like  many  a  high-spirited  man, 
saw  nothing  but  disgrace  in  a  measure  forced  on  by  such 
corrupt  means,  and  calling  in  its  commencement  for  such 
mortifying  national  sacrifices.  The  English  nation,  indeed, 
with  a  narrow,  yet  not  unnatural  view  of  their  own  interest, 
took  such  pains  to  encumber  and  restrict  the  Scottish 
commercial  privileges,  that  it  was  not  till  the  best  part  of 
a  century  after  the  event  that  the  inestimable  fruits  of  the 
treaty  began  to  be  felt  and  known.  This  distant  period 
Lord  Pitsligo  could  not  foresee.  He  beheld  his  country- 
men, like  the  Israelites  of  yore,  led  into  the  desert ;  but 
his  merely  human  eye  could  not  foresee  that,  after  the  ex- 
tinction of  a  whole  race — after  a  longer  pilgrimage  than 
that  of  the  followers  of  Moses — the  Scottish  people  should 

*  See  Blackwood's  Magazine  for  May  1829 — Article,  "  Lord  Pitsligo." 


148      LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

at  length  arrive  at  that  promised  land,  of  which  the  favor- 
ers of  the  Union  held  forth  so  gay  a  prospect. 

"  Looking  upon  the  Act  of  Settlement  of  the  Crown,  and 
the  Act  of  Abjuration,  as  unlawful,  Lord  Pitsligo  retired  to 
his  house  in  the  country,  and  threw  up  attendance  on  Par- 
liament. Upon  the  death  of  Queen  Anne,  he  joined  him- 
self in  arms  with  a  general  insurrection  of  the  Highlanders 
and  Jacobites,  headed  by  his  friend  and  relative  the  Earl  of 
Mar. 

"  Mar,  a  versatile  statesman  and  an  able  intriguer,  had 
consulted  his  ambition  rather  than  his  talents  when  he  as- 
sumed the  command  of  such  an  enterprise.  He  sank  be- 
neath the  far  superior  genius  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle  ;  and, 
after  the  undecisive  battle  of  Sheriffmuir,  the  confederacy 
which  he  had  formed,  but  was  unable  to  direct,  dissolved 
like  a  snowball,  and  the  nobles  concerned  in  it  were  fain 
to  fly  abroad.  This  exile  was  Lord  Pitsligo's  fate  for  five 
or  six  years.  Part  of  the  time  he  spent  at  the  court,  if  it 
can  be  called  so,  of  the  old  Chevalier  de  Saint  George, 
where  existed  all  the  petty  feuds,  chicanery,  and  crooked 
intrigues  which  subsist  in  a  real  scene  of  the  same  char- 
acter, although  the  objects  of  the  ambition  which  prompts 
such  acts  had  no  existence.  Men  seemed  to  play  at 
being  courtiers  in  that  illusory  court,  as  children  play  at 
being  soldiers." 

It  would  appear  that  Lord  Pitsligo  was  not  attainted  for 
his  share  in  Mar's  rebellion.  He  returned  to  Scotland  in 
1720,  and  resided  at  his  castle  in  Aberdeenshire,  not  ming- 
ling in  public  affairs,  but  gaining  through  his  charity,  kind- 
ness, and  benevolence,  the  respect  and  affection  of  all 
around  him.  He  was  sixty-seven  years  of  age  when 
Charles  Edward  landed  in  Scotland.  The  district  in  which 
the  estates  of  Lord  Pitsligo  lay  was  essentially  Jacobite, 
and  the  young  cavaliers  only  waited  for  a  fitting  leader  to 
take  up  arms  in  the  cause.  According  to  Mr.  Home,  his 


THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER.  149 

example  was  decisive  of  the  movement  of  his  neighbors  : 
"  So  when  he  who  was  so  wise  and  prudent  declared  his 
purpose  of  joining  Charles,  most  of  the  gentlemen  in  that 
part  of  the  country  who  favored  the  Pretender's  cause,  put 
themselves  under  his  command,  thinking  they  could  not 
follow  a  better  or  safer  guide  than  Lord  Pitsligo."  His 
lordship's  own  account  of  the  motives  which  urged  him 
on  is  peculiar  : — "  I  was  grown  a  little  old,  and  the  fear  of 
ridicule  stuck  to  me  pretty  much.  I  have  mentioned  the 
weightier  considerations  of  a  family,  which  would  make  the 
censure  still  the  greater,  and  set  the  more  tongues  a-going. 
But  we  are  pushed  on,  I  know  not  how :  I  thought — I 
weighed  and  I  weighed,  again.  If  there  was  any  enthusiasm 
in  it,  it  was  of  the  coldest  kind  ;  and  there  was  as  little  re- 
morse when  the  affair  miscarried,  as  there  was  eagerness  at 
the  beginning." 

The  writer  whom  I  have  already  quoted  goes  on  to  say  : 
— "  To  those  friends  who  recalled  his  misfortunes  of  1715, 
he  replied  gayly  :  "  Did  you  ever  know  me  absent  at  the 
second  day  of  a  wedding  ?  "  meaning,  I  suppose,  that  hav- 
ing once  contracted  an  engagement,  he  did  not  feel  entitled 
to  quit  it  while  the  contest  subsisted.  Being  invited  by 
the  gentlemen  of  the  district  to  put  himself  at  their  head, 
and  having  surmounted  his  own  desires,  he  had  made  a 
farewell  visit  at  a  neighbor's  house,  where  a  little  boy,  a 
child  of  the  family,  brought  out  a  stool  to  assist  the  old 
nobleman  in  remounting  his  horse.  "  My  little  fellow," 
said  Lord  Pitsligo,  "  this  is  the  severest  rebuke  I  have  yet 
received,  for  presuming  to  go  on  such  an  expedition." 

"The  die  was  however  cast,  and  Lord  Pitsligo  went  to 
meet  his  friends  at  the  rendezvous  they  had  appointed  in 
Aberdeen.  They  formed  a  body  of  well  armed  cavalry, 
gentlemen  and  their  servants,  to  the  number  of  a  hundred 
men.  When  they  were  drawn  up  in  readiness  to  commence 
the  expedition,  the  venerable  nobleman  their  leader  moved 


150      LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

to  their  front,  lifted  his  hat,  and,  looking  up  to  heaven,  pro- 
nounced, with  a  solemn  voice,  the  awful  appeal, — *  O  Lord, 
Thou  knowest  that  our  cause  is  just !  '  then  added  the 
signal  for  departure — '  March,  gentlemen  ! ' 

"  Lord  Pitsligo,  with  his  followers,  found  Charles  at 
Edinburgh,  on  8th  October  1745,  a  few  days  after  the  High- 
landers' victory  at  Preston.  Their  arrival  was  hailed  with 
enthusiasm,  not  only  on  account  of  the  timely  reinforce- 
ments, but  more  especially  from  the  high  character  of  their 
leader.  Hamilton  of  Bangour,  in  an  animated  and  eloquent 
eulogium  upon  Pitsligo,  states  that  nothing  could  have  fall- 
en out  more  fortunately  for  the  Prince  than  his  joining 
them  did — for  it  seemed  as  if  religion,  virtue,  and  justice 
were  entering  his  camp,  under  the  appearance  of  this  ven- 
erable old  man  ;  and  what  would  have  given  sanction  to  a 
cause  of  the  most  dubious  right,  could  not  fail  to  render 
sacred  the  very  best." 

Although  so  far  advanced  in  years,  he  remained  in  arms 
during  the  whole  campaign,  and  was  treated  with  almost 
filial  tenderness  by  the  Prince.  After  Culloden,  he  became, 
like  many  others,  a  fugitive  and  an  outlaw ;  but  he  suc- 
ceeded, like  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  in  finding  a  shelter 
upon  the  skirts  of  his  own  estate.  Disguised  as  a  mendi- 
cant, his  secret  was  faithfully  kept  by  the  tenantry ;  and 
although  it  was  more  than  surmised  by  the  soldiers  that 
he  was  lurking  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood,  they 
never  were  able  to  detect  him.  On  one  occasion  he  actually 
guided  a  party  to  a  cave  on  the  sea-shore,  amidst  the  rough 
rocks  of  Buchan,  where  it  was  rumored  that  he  was  lying 
in  concealment ;  and  on  another,  when  overtaken  by  his 
asthma,  and  utterly  unable  to  escape  from  an  approaching 
patrol  of  soldiers,  he  sat  down  by  the  wayside,  and  acted 
his  assumed  character  so  well,  that  a  good-natured  fellow 
not  only  gave  him  alms,  but  condoled  with  him  on  the 
violence  of  his  complaint. 


THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER,  151 

For  ten  years  he  remained  concealed,  but  in  the  mean 
time  both  title  and  estate  were  forfeited  by  attainder.  His 
last  escape  was  so  very  remarkable,  that  I  may  be  pardoned 
for  giving  it  in  the  language  of  the  author  of  his  Memoirs  : 

"  In  March,  1756,  and  of  course  long  after  all  apprehen- 
sion of  a  search  had  ceased,  information  having  been  given 
to  the  commanding  officer  at  Fraserburgh  that  Lord  Pit- 
sligo  was  at  that  moment  at  the  house  of  Auchiries,  it  was 
acted  upon  with  so  much  promptness  and  secrecy  that  the 
search  must  have  proved  successful  but  for  a  very  singular 
occurrence.  Mrs.  Sophia  Donaldson,  a  lady  who  lived 
much  with  the  family,  repeatedly  dreamt,  on  that  particular 
night,  that  the  house  was  surrounded  by  soldiers.  Her 
mind  became  so  haunted  with  the  idea,  that  she  got  out  of 
bed,  and  was  walking  through  the  room  in  hopes  of  giving 
a  different  current  to  her  thoughts  before  she  lay  down 
again ;  when,  day  beginning  to  dawn,  she  accidentally 
looked  out  at  the  window  as  she  passed  it  in  traversing 
the  room,  and  was  astonished  at  actually  observing  the 
figures  of  soldiers  among  some  trees  near  the  house.  So 
completely  had  all  idea  of  a  search  been  by  that  time  laid 
asleep,  that  she  supposed  they  had  come  to  steal  poultry — 
Jacobite  poultry-yards  affording  a  safe  object  of  pillage. for 
the  English  soldiers  in  those  days.  Mrs.  Sophia  was 
proceeding  to  rouse  the  servants,  when  her  sister  having 
awaked,  and  inquiring  what  was  the  matter,  and  being  told 
of  soldiers  near  the  house,  exclaimed  in  great  alarm  that 
she  feared  they  wanted  something  more  than  hens.  She 
begged  Mrs.  Sophia  to  look  out  at  a  window  at  the  other 
side  of  the  house,  when  not  only  were  soldiers  seen  in  that 
direction,  but  also  an  officer  giving  instructions  by  signal, 
and  frequently  putting  his  fingers  to  his  lips,  as  if  enjoining 
silence.  There  was  now  no  time  to  be  lost  in  rousing  the 
family,  and  all  the  haste  that  could  be  made  was  scarcely 


152      LA  YS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

sufficient  to  hurry  the  venerable  man  from  his  bed  into  a 
small  recess,  behind  the  wainscot  of  an  adjoining  room, 
which  was  concealed  by  a  bed,  in  which  a  lady,  Miss 
Gordon,  of  Towie,  who  was  there  on  a  visit,  by,  before  the 
soldiers  obtained  admission.  A  most  minute  search  took 
place.  The  room  in  which  Lord  Pitsligo  was  concealed 
did  not  escape.  Miss  Gordon's  bed  was  carefully  exam- 
ined, and  she  was  obliged  to  suffer  the  rude  scrutiny  of  one 
of  the  party,  by  feeling  her  chin,  to  ascertain  that  it  was 
not  a  man  in  a  lady's  night-dress.  Before  the  soldiers  had 
finished  their  examination  in  this  room,  the  confinement 
and  anxiety  increased  Lord  Pitsligo's  asthma  so  much,  and 
his  breathing  became  so  loud,  that  it  cost  Miss  Gordon, 
lying  in  bed,  much  and  violent  coughing,  which  she  coun- 
terfeited in  order  to  prevent  the  high  breathings  behind 
the  wainscot  from  being  heard.  It  may  easily  be  con- 
ceived what  agony  she  would  suffer,  lest,  by  overdoing  her 
part,  she  should  increase  suspicion,  and,  in  fact,  lead  to  a 
discovery.  The  ruse  was  fortunately  successful.  On  the 
search  through  the  house  being  given  over,  Lord  Pitsligo 
was  hastily  taken  from  his  confined  situation,  and  again 
placed  in  bed ;  and  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  speak,  his 
accustomed  kindness  of  heart  rr  ade  him  say  to  his  servant : 
*  James,  go  and  see  that  these  poor  fellows  get  some  break- 
fast, and  a  drink  of  warm  ale,  for  this  is  a  cold  morning  ; 
they  are  only  doing  their  duty,  and  cannot  bear  me  any 
ill-will.'  When  the  family  were  felicitating  each  other  oa 
his  escape,  he  pleasantly  observed  :  '  A  poor  prize,  had 
they  obtained  it — an  old  dying  man.'  " 

This  was  the  last  attempt  made  on  the  part  of  the  Gov- 
ernment to  seize  on  the  persons  of  any  of  the  surviving 
insurgents.  Three  years  before,  Dr.  Archibald  Cameron, 
a  brother  of  Locheill,  having  clandestinely  revisited  Scot- 
land, was  arrested,  tried  and  executed  for  high  treason  at 


THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER.  153 

Tyburn.  The  Government  was  generally  blamed  for  this 
act  of  severity,  which  was  considered  rather  to  have  been 
dictated  by  revenge  than  required  for  the  public  safety. 
It  is,  however,  probable  that  they  might  have  had  secret 
information  of  certain  negotiations  which  were  still  con- 
ducted in  the  Highlands  by  the  agents  of  the  Stuart 
family,  and  that  they  considered  it  necessary,  by  one  terri- 
ble example,  to  overawe  the  insurrectionary  spirit.  This 
I  believe  to  have  been  the  real  motive  of  an  execution 
which  otherwise  could  not  have  been  palliated ;  and  in  the 
case  of  Lord  Pitsligo,  it  is  quite  possible  that  the  zeal  of  a 
partisan  may  have  led  him  to  take  a  step  which  would  not 
have  been  approved  of  by  the  Ministry.  After  the  lapse 
of  so  many  years,  and  after  so  many  scenes  of  judicial 
bloodshed,  the  nation  would  have  turned  in  disgust  from 
the  spectacle  of  an  old  man,  whose  private  life  was  not 
only  blameless  but  exemplary,  dragged  to  the  scaffold,  and 
forced  to  lay  down  his  head  in  expiation  of  a  doubtful 
crime ;  and  this  view  derives  corroboration  from  the  fact 
that,  shortly  afterwards,  Lord  Pitsligo  was  tacitly  permitted 
to  return  to  the  society  of  his  friends,  without  further  no- 
tice or  persecution. 

Dr.  King,  the  Principal  of  St.  Mary's  Hall,  Oxford, 
has  borne  the  following  testimony  to  the  character  of  Lord 
Pitsligo :  "  Whoever  is  so  happy,  either  from  his  natural 
disposition  or  his  good  judgment,  constantly  to  observe  St. 
Paul's  precept,  *  to  speak  evil  of  no  one,'  will  certainly  ac- 
quire the  love  and  esteem  of  the  whole  community  of  which 
he  is  a  member.  But  such  a  man  is  the  rara  avis  in  terris  ; 
and,  among  all  my  acquaintance,  I  have  known  only  one 
person  to  whom  I  can  with  truth  assign  this  character. 
The  person  I  mean  is  the  present  Lord  Pitsligo,  of  Scot- 
land. I  not  only  never  heard  this  gentlemen  speak  an  ill 
word  of  any  man  living,  but  I  always  observed  him  ready 


154      LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS. 

to  defend  any  other  person  who  was  ill  spoken  of  in  his 
company.  If  the  person  accused  were  of  his  acquaintance, 
my  Lord  Pitsligo  would  always  find  something  good  to  say 
of  him  as  a  counterpoise.  If  he  were  a  stranger,  and  quite 
unknown  to  him,  my  lord  would  urge  in  his  defence  the 
general  corruption  of  manners,  and  the  frailties  and  infirm- 
ities of  human  nature. 

"  It  is  no  wonder  that  such  an  excellent  man,  who,  be- 
sides, is  a  polite  scholar,  and  has  many  other  great  and 
good  qualities,  should  be  universally  admired  and  beloved 
— insomuch  that  I  persuade  myself  he  has  not  one  enemy 
in  the  world.  At  least,  to  this  general  esteem  and  affec- 
tion for  his  person,  his  preservation  must  be  owing ;  for 
since  his  attainder  he  has  tiever  removed  far  from  his  own 
house,  protected  by  men  of  different  principles,  and  un- 
sought for  and  unmolested  by  Government."  To  which 
eulogy  it  might  be  added,  by  those  who  have  the  good 
fortune  to  know  his  representatives,  that  the  virtues  here 
acknowledged  seem  hereditary  in  the  family  of  Pitsligo. 

The  venerable  old  nobleman  was  permitted  to  remain 
without  molestation,  at  the  residence  of  his  son,  during  the 
latter  years  of  an  existence  protracted  to  the  extreme  verge 
of  human  life.  And  so,  says  the  author  of  his  Memoirs, 
"  In  this  happy  frame  of  mind — calm  and  full  of  hope — 
the  saintly  man  continued  to  the  last,  with  his  reason  un- 
clouded, able  to  study  his  favorite  volume,  enjoying  the 
comforts  of  friendship,  and  delighting  in  the  consolations 
of  religion,  till  he  gently  '  fell  asleep  in  Jesus.'  He  died 
on  the  2ist  of  December,  1762,  in  the  eighty-fifth  year  of 
his  age ;  and  to  his  surviving  friends  the  recollection  of 
the  misfortunes  which  had  accompanied  him  through  his 
long  life,  was  painfully  awakened  even  in  the  closing  scene 
of  his  mortal  career — as  his  son  had  the  mortification  to 
be  indebted  to  a  stranger,  now  the  proprietor  of  his  ancient 


THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER.  155 

inheritance  by  purchase  from  the  Crown,  for  permission  to 
lay  his  father's  honored  remains  in  the  vault  which  con- 
tained the  ashes  of  his  family  for  many  generations." 

Such  a  character  as  this  is  well  worthy  of  remembrance  ; 
and  Lord  Pitsligo  has  just  title  to  be  called  the  last  of  the 
old  Scottish  cavaliers.  I  trust  that,  in  adapting  the  words 
of  the  following  little  ballad  to  a  well-known  English  air, 
I  have  committed  no  unpardonable  larceny. 


THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER. 


i. 

COME  listen  to  another  song, 

Should  make  your  heart  beat  high, 
Bring  crimson  to  your  forehead, 

And  the  lustre  to  your  eye  ; — 
It  is  a  song  of  olden  time, 

Of  days  long  since  gone  by, 
And  of  a  baron  stout  and  bold 

As  e'er  wore  sword  on  thigh  ! 

Like  a  brave  old  Scottish  cavalier, 
All  of  the  olden  time  ! 

ii. 
He  kept  his  castle  in  the  north, 

Hard  by  the  thundering  Spey ; 
And  a  thousand  vassals  dwelt  around 

All  of  his  kindred  they. 
And  not  a  man  of  all  that  clan 

Had  ever  ceased  to  pray 
For  the  Royal  race  they  loved  so  well, 
Though  exiled  far  away, 

From  the  steadfast  Scottish  cavaliers, 
All  of  the  olden  time  ' 


THE  OLD  SCOTTISH  CAVALIER.  157 

III. 

His  father  drew  the  righteous  sword 

For  Scotland  and  her  claims, 
Among  the  loyal  gentlemen 

And  chiefs  of  ancient  names, 
Who  swore  to  fight  or  fall  beneath 

The  standard  of  King  James, 
And  died  at  Killiecrankie  Pass, 

With  the  glory  of  the  Graemes  ; 
Like  a  true  old  Scottish  cavalier 
All  of  the  olden  time  ! 

IV. 

He  never  owned  the  foreign  rule, 

No  master  he  obeyed, 
But  kept  his  clan  in  peace  at  home, 

From  foray  and  from  raid  ; 
And  when  they  asked  him  for  his  oath, 

He  touched  his  glittering  blade, 
And  pointed  to  his  bonnet  blue, 

That  bore  the  white  cockade  : 
Like  a  leal  old  Scottish  cavalier, 
All  of  the  olden  time  ! 

v. 

At  length  the  news  ran  through  the  land — 

THE  PRINCE  had  come  again  ! 
That  night  the  fiery  cross  was  sped 

O'er  mountain  and  through  glen  ; 
And  our  old  baron  rose  in  might, 

Like  a  lion  from  his  den, 


158       LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CA  VALIERS. 

And  rode  away  across  the  hills 
To  Charlie  and  his  men, 

With  the  valiant  Scottish  cavaliers, 
All  of  the  olden  time ! 

VI. 

He  was  the  first  that  bent  the  knee 

When  the  STANDARD  waved  abroad, 
He  was  the  first  that  charged  the  foe 

On  Preston's  bloody  sod  ; 
And  ever,  in  the  van  of  fight, 

The  foremost  still  he  trod, 
Until  on  bleak  Culloden's  heath, 

He  gave  his  soul  to  God, 

Like  a  good  old  Scottish  cavalier, 
All  ot  the  olden  time  ! 

VII. 

Oh  !  never  shall  we  know  again 

A  heart  so  stout  and  true — 
The  olden  times  have  passed  away, 

And  weary  are  the  new  : 
The  fair  white  rose  has  faded 

From  the  garden  where  it  grew, 
And  no  fond  tears  save  those  of  heaven, 

The  glorious  bed  bedew 

Of  the  last  old  Scottish  cavalier, 
All  of  the  olden  time  ! 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS, 


BLIND  OLD  MILTON. 

PLACE  me  one  more,  my  daughter,  where  the  sun 

May  shine  upon  my  old  and  time-worn  head, 

For  the  last  time,  perchance.     My  race  is  run  ; 

And  soon  amidst  the  ever-silent  dead 

I  must  repose,  it  may  be,  half  forgot. 

Yes  !  I  have  broke  the  hard  and  bitter  bread 

For  many  a  year,  with  those  who  trembled  not 

To  buckle  on  their  armor  for  the  fight, 

And  set  themselves  against  the  tyrant's  lot  ; 

And  I  have  never  bowed  me  to  his  might, 

Nor  knelt  before  him — for  I  bear  within 

My  heart  the  sternest  consciousness  of  right, 

And  that  perpetual  hate  of  gilded  sin 

Which  made  me  what  I  am  ;  and  though  the  stain 

Of  poverty  be  on  me,  yet  I  win 

More  honor  by  it  than  the  blinded  train 

Who  hug  their  willing  servitude,  and  bow 

Unto  the  weakest  and  the  most  profane. 

Therefore,  with  unencumbered  soul  I  go 


160  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Before  the  footstool  of  my  Maker,  where 
I  hope  to  stand  as  undebased  as  now ! 

Child  !  is  the  sun  abroad  ?     I  feel  my  hair 
Borne  up  and  wafted  by  the  gentle  wind, 
I  feel  the  odors  that  perfume  the  air, 
And  hear  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  behind. 
Within  my  heart  I  picture  them,  and  then 
I  almost  can  forget  that  I  am  blind, 
And  old,  and  hated  by  my  fellow-men. 
Yet  would  I  fain  once  more  behold  the  grace 
Of  nature  ere  I  die,  and  gaze  again 
Upon  her  living  and  rejoicing  face — 
Fain  would  I  see  thy  countenance,  my  child, 
My  comforter  !  I  feel  thy  dear  embrace — 
I  hear  thy  voice,  so  musical  and  mild, 
The  patient  sole  interpreter,  by  whom 
So  many  years  of  sadness  are  beguiled  ; 
For  it  hath  made  my  small  and  scanty  room 
Peopled  with  glowing  visions  of  the  past. 
But  I  will  calmly  bend  me  to  my  doom, 
And  wait  the  hour  which  is  approaching  fast, 
When  triple  light  shall  stream  upon  mine  eyes, 
And  heaven  itself  be  opened  up  at  last 
To  him  who  dared  foretell  its  mysteries. 
I  have  had  visions  in  this  drear  eclipse 
Of  outward  consciousness,  and  clomb  the  skies, 
Striving  to  utter  with  my  earthly  lips 
What  the  diviner  soul  had  half  divined, 
Even  as  the  Saint  in  his  Apocalypse 
Who  saw  the  inmost  glory,  where  enshrined 
Sat  He  who  fashioned  glory.     This  hath  driven 


BLIND  OLD  MILTON.  161 

All  outward  strife  and  tumult  from  my  mind, 
And  humbled  me,  until  I  have  forgiven 
My  bitter  enemies,  and  only  seek 
To  find  the  strait  and  narrow  path  to  heaven. 


Yet  I  am  weak — Oh  !  how  entirely  weak, 
For  one  who  may  not  love  nor  suffer  more  ! 
Sometimes  unbidden  tears  will  wet  my  cheek, 
And  my  heart  bound  as  keenly  as  of  yore, 
Responsive  to  a  voice,  now  hushed  to  rest, 
Which  made  the  beautiful  Italian  shore, 
In  all  its  pomp  of  summer  vineyards  drest, 
And  Eden  and  a  Paradise  to  me. 
Do  the  sweet  breezes  from  the  balmy  west 
Still  murmur  through  thy  groves,  Parthenope, 
In  search  of  odors  from  the  orange  bowers  ? 
Still,  on  thy  slopes  of  verdure,  does  the  bee 
Cull  her  rare  honey  from  the  virgin  flowers  ? 
And  Philomel  her  plaintive  chant  prolong 
'Neath  skies  more  calm  and  more  serene  than  ours, 
Making  the  summer  one  perpetual  song  ? 
Art  thou  the  same  as  when  in  manhood's  pride 
I  walked  in  joy  thy  grassy  meads  among 
With  that  fair  youthful  vision  by  my  side, 
In  whose  bright  eyes  I  looked — and  not  in  vain  ? 

0  my  adored  angel !  O  my  bride  ! 

Despite  of  years,  and  woe,  and  want,  and  pain, 
My  soul  yearns  back  towards  thee,  and  I  seem 
To  wander  with  thee,  hand  in  hand,  again, 
By  the  bright  margin  of  that  flowing  stream. 

1  hear  again  thy  voice,  more  silver-sweet 


102  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Than  fancied  music  floating  in  a  dream, 
Possess  my  being ;  from  afar  I  greet 
The  waving  of  thy  garments  in  the  glade, 
And  the  light  rustling  of  thy  fairy  feet — 
What  time  has  one  half  eager,  half  afraid, 
Love's  burning  secret  faltered  on  my  tongue, 
And  tremulous  looks  and  broken  words  betrayed 
The  secret  of  the  heart  from  whence  they  sprung. 
Ah  me !  the  earth  that  rendered  thee  to  heaven 
Gave  up  an  angel  beautiful  and  young, 
Spotless  and  pure  as  snow  when  freshly  driven ; 
A  bright  Aurora  for  the  starry  sphere 
Where  all  is  love,  and  even  life  forgiven. 
Bride  of  immortal  beauty — ever  dear  ! 
Dost  thou  await  me  in  thy  blest  abode ! 
While  I,  Tithonus-like,  must  linger  here, 
And  count  each  step  along  the  rugged  road ; 
A  phantom,  tottering  to  a  long-made  grave, 
And  eager  to  lay  down  my  weary  load ! 

I,  who  was  fancy's  lord,  am  fancy's  slave. 
Like  the  low  murmurs  of  the  Indian  shell 
Ta'en  from  its  coral  bed  beneath  the  wave, 
Which,  unforgetful  of  the  ocean's  swell, 
Retains  within  its  mystic  urn  the  hum 
Heard  in  the  sea-grots  where  the  Nereids  dwell 
Old  thoughts  still  haunt  me — unawares  they  come 
Between  me  and  my  rest,  nor  can  I  make 
Those  aged  visitors  of  sorrow,  dumb. 
Oh,  yet  awhile,  my  feeble  soul,  awake  ! 
Nor  wander  back  with  sullen  steps  again ; 
For  neither  pleasant  pastime  canst  thou  take 


BLIND  OLD  MILTON.  163 

In  such  a  journey,  nor  endure  the  pain. 

The  phantoms  of  the  past  are  dead  for  thee  ; 

So  let  them  ever  uninvoked  remain, 

And  be  thou  calm,  till  death  shall  set  thee  free. 

Thy  flowers  of  hope  expended  long  ago, 

Long  since  their  blossoms  withered  on  the  tree  : 

No  second  spring  can  come  to  make  them  blow, 

But  in  the  silent  winter  of  the  grave 

They  lie  with  blighted  love  and  buried  woe. 

I  did  not  waste  the  gifts  which  nature  gave, 
Nor  slothful  lay  in  the  Circean  bower  ; 
Nor  did  I  yield  myself  the  willing  slave 
Of  lust  for  pride,  for  riches,  or  for  power. 
No  !  in  my  heart  a  nobler  spirit  dwelt ; 
For  constant  was  my  faith  in  manhood's  dower 
Man — made  in  God's  own  image — and  I  felt 
How  of  our  own  accord  we  courted  shame, 
Until  to  idols  like  ourselves  we  knelt, 
And  so  renounced  the  great  and  glorious  claim 
Of  freedom,  our  immortal  heritage. 
I  saw  how  bigotry,  with  spiteful  aim, 
Smote  at  the  searching  eyesight  of  the  sage ; 
How  Error  stole  behind  the  steps  of  truth, 
And  cast  delusion  on  the  sacred  page. 
So,  as  a  champion,  even  in  early  youth 
I  waged  my  battle  with  a  purpose  keen  : 
Nor  feared  the  hand  of  terror,  nor  the  tooth 
Of  serpent  jealousy.     And  I  have  been 
With  starry  Galileo  in  his  cell — 
That  wise  magician  with  the  brow  serene, 
Who  fathomed  space ;  and  I  have  seen  him  tell 
The  wonders  of  planetary  sphere, 


164  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

And  trace  the  ramparts  of  heaven's  citadel 

On  the  cold  flag-stones  of  his  dungeon  drear. 

And  I  have  walked  with  Hampden  and  with  Vane — 

Names  once  so  gracious  to  an  English  ear — 

In  days  that  never  may  return  again. 

My  voice,  though  not  the  loudest,  hath  been  heard 

Whenever  freedom  raised  her  cry  of  pain, 

And  the  faint  effort  of  the  humble  bard 

Hath  roused  up  thousands  from  their  lethargy, 

To  speak  in  words  of  thunder.     What  reward 

Was  mine,  or  theirs  ?     It  matters  not ;  for  I 

Am  but  a  leaf  cast  on  the  whirling  tide, 

Without  a  hope  or  wish,  except  to  die. 

But  truth,  asserted  once,  must  still  abide, 

Unquenchable,  as  are  those  fiery  springs 

Which  day  and  night  gush  from  the  mountain  side 

Perpetual  meteors  girt  with  lambent  wings, 

Which  the  wild  tempest  tosses  to  and  fro, 

But  cannot  conquer  with  the  force  it  brings. 

Yet  I,  who  ever  felt  another's  woe 
More  keenly  than  my  own  untold  distress  ; 
I,  who  have  battled  with  the  common  foe,- 
And  broke  for  years  the  bread  of  bitterness  ; 
Who  never  yet  abandoned  or  betrayed 
The  trust  vouchsafed  me,  nor  have  ceased  to  bless, 
Am  left  alone  to  wither  in  the  shade, 
A  weak  old  man,  deserted  by  his  kind — 
Whom  none  will  comfort  in  his  age,  nor  aid ! 

Oh,  let  me  not  repine  !     A  quiet  mind, 
Conscious  and  upright,  needs  no  other  stay  ; 
Nor  can  I  grieve  for  what  I  leave  behind, 
In  the  rich  promise  of  eternal  day. 


BLIND  OLD  MILTON.  165 

Henceforth  to  me  the  world  is  dead  and  gone, 
Its  thorns  unfelt,  its  roses  cast  away  : 
And  the  old  pilgrim,  weary  and  alone, 
Bowed  down  with  travel,  at  his  master's  gate  . 
Now  sits,  his  task  of  life-long  labor  done, 
Thankful  for  rest,  although  it  comes  so  late, 
After  sore  journey  through  this  world  of  sin, 
In  hope,  and  prayer,  and  wistf ulness  to  wait, 
Until  the  door  shall  ope  and  let  him  in. 


HERMOTIMUS. 


HERMOTIMUS,  the  hero  of  this  ballad,  was  a  philosopher, 
or  rather  a  prophet,  of  Clazomenae,  who  possessed  the 
faculty,  now  claimed  by  the  animal-magnetists,  of  effecting 
a  voluntary  separation  between  his  soul  and  body  ;  for  the 
former  could  wander  to  any  part  of  the  universe,  and  even 
hold  intercourse  with  supernatural  beings,  whilst  the  sense- 
less frame  remained  at  home.  Hermotimus,  however, 
was  not  insensible  to  the  risk  attendant  upon  this  disunion; 
since  before  attempting  any  of  these  aerial  flights,  he  took 
the  precaution  to  warn  his  wife,  lest,  ere  the  return 
of  his  soul,  the  body  should  be  rendered  an  unfit  or  use- 
less receptacle.  This  accident,  which  he  so  much  dread- 
ed, at  length  occurred  ;  for  the  lady,  wearied  out  by  a  suc- 
cession of  trances,  each  of  longer  duration  than  the  pre- 
ceding, one  day  committed  his  body  to  the  flames,  and 
thus  effectually  put  a  stop  to  such  unconnubial  conduct. 
He  received  divine  honors  at  Clazomenae,  but  must  never- 
theless remain  as  a  terrible  example  and  warning  to  all 
husbands  who  carry  their  scientific  or  spiritual  pursuits  so 
far  as  to  neglect  their  duty  to  their  wives. 

It  is  somewhat  curious  that  Hermotimus  is  not  the  only 
person  (putting  the  disciples  of  Mesmer  and  Dupotet 
altogether  out  of  the  question)  who  has  possessed  this 
miraculous  power.  Another  and  much  later  instance  is 


HERMOTIMUS.  167 

recorded  by  Dr.  George  Cheyne,  in  his  work  entitled  The 
English  Malady,  or  a  Treatise  on  Nervous  Diseases^  as 
having  come  under  his  own  observation ;  and  as  this  case 
is  exactly  similar  to  that  of  the  prophet,  it  may  amuse  the 
reader  to  see  how  far  an  ancient  fable  may  be  illustrated, 
and  in  part  explained,  by  the  records  of  modern  science. 
Dr  Cheyne's  patient  was  probably  cataleptic  ;  but  the 
worthy  physician  must  be  allowed  to  tell  his  own  story : — 
"  Colonel  Townshend,  a  gentleman  of  honor  and  integ- 
rity, had  for  many  years  been  afflicted  with"  a  nephritic 
complaint.  His  illness  increasing  and  his  strength 
decaying,  he  came  from  Bristol  to  Bath  in  a  litter,  in 
autumn,  and  lay  at  the  Bell  Inn.  Dr.  Baynard  and  I 
were  called  to  him,  and  attended  him  twice  a-day  ;  but 
his  vomitings  continuing  still  incessant  and  obstinate 
against  all  remedies,  we  despaired  of  his  recovery.  While 
he  was  in  this  condition,  he  sent  for  us  one  morning  :  we 
waited  on  him  with  Mr.  Skrine,  his  apothecary.  We  found 
his  senses  clear,  and  his  mind  calm :  his  nurse  and  several 
servants  were  about  him.  He  told  us  he  had  sent  for  us 
to  give  him  an  account  of  an  odd  sensation  he  had  for 
some  time  observed  and  felt  in  himself  ;  which  was,  that 
by  composing  himself  he  could  die  or  expire  when  he  pleased  ; 
and  yet  by  an  effort,  or  somehow,  he  could  come  to  life 
again,  which  he  had  sometimes  tried  before  he  sent  for  us. 
We  heard  this  with  surprise  ;  but,  as  it  was  not  to  be  ac- 
counted for  upon  common  principles,  we  could  hardly 
believe  the  fact  as  he  related  it,  much  less  give  any  account 
of  it,  unless  he  should  please  to  make  the  experiment 
before  us,  which  we  were  unwilling  he  should  do,  lest,  in 
his  weak  condition,  he  might  carry  it  too  far.  He  con- 
tinued to  talk  very  distinctly  and  sensibly  above  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  about  this  surprising  sensation,  and  insisted  so 
much  on  our  seeing  the  trial  made,  that  we  were  at  last 


168  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

forced  to  comply.  We  all  three  felt  his  pulse  first — it  was 
distinct,  though  small  and  thready,  and  his  heart  had  its 
usual  beating.  He  composed  himself  on  his  back,  and 
lay  in  a  still  posture  for  some  time :  while  I  held  his 
right  hand  Dr.  Baynard  laid  his  hand  on  his  heart,  and 
Mr.  Skrine  held  a  clean  looking-glass  to  his  mouth.  I 
found  his  pulse  sink  gradually,  till  at  last  I  could  not  find 
any  by  the  most  exact  and  nice  touch.  Dr.  Baynard 
could  not  feel  the  least  motion  in  his  heart,  nor  Mr.  Skrine 
the  least  soil  of  breath  on  the  bright  mirror  he  held  to  his 
mouth ;  then  each  of  us  by  turns  examined  his  arm,  heart 
and  breath,  but  could  not,  by  the  nicest  scrutiny,  discover 
the  least  symptom  of  life  in  him.  We  reasoned  a  long 
time  about  this  odd  appearance  as  well  as  we  could,  and 
all  of  us  judging  it  inexplicable  and  unaccountable  ;  and 
finding  he  still  continued  in  that  condition,  we  began  to 
conclude  that  he  had  indeed  carried  the  experiment  too 
far  ;  and  at  last  were  satisfied  he  was  actually  dead,  and 
were  just  ready  to  leave  him.  This  continued  about  half 
an  hour.  As  we  were  going  away,  we  observed  some 
motion  about  the  body ;  and,  upon  examination,  found  his 
pulse  and  the  motion  of  his  heart  gradually  returning.  He 
began  to  breathe  gently  and  speak  softly.  We  were  all 
astonished  to  the  last  degree  at  this  unexpected  change ; 
and,  after  some  further  conversation  with  him,  and  among 
ourselves,  went  away  fully  satisfied  as  to  all  the  particulars 
of  this  fact,  but  confounded  and  puzzled,  and  not  able  to 
form  any  rational  scheme  that  might  account  for  it." 


HERMOTIMUS. 


"  WILT  not  lay  thee  down  in  quiet  slumber  ? 

Weary  dost  thou  seem,  and  ill  at  rest ; 
Sleep  will  bring  thee  dreams  in  starry  number — 
Let  him  come  to  thee  and  be  thy  guest. 
Midnight  now  is  past — 
Husband  !  come  at  last — 
Lay  thy  throbbing  head  upon  my  breast." 


n. 

"  Weary  am  I,  but  my  soul  is  waking ; 
Fain  I'd  lay  me  gently  by  thy  side, 
But  my  spirit  then,  its  home  forsaking, 

Thro'  the  realms  of  space  would  wander  wide- 
Everything  forgot, 
What  would  be  thy  lot, 
If  I  came  not  back  to  thee,  my  bride  ! 


170  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

III. 

"  Music,  like  the  lute  of  young  Apollo, 
Vibrates  even  now  within  mine  ear  ; 
Soft  and  silver  voic.es  bid  me  follow — 
Yet  my  soul  is  dull  and  will  not  hear. 
Waking  it  will  stay  : 
Let  me  watch  till  day — 
Faintly  will  they  come  and  disappear. 

IV. 

"  Speak  not  thus  to  me,  my  own — my  dearest ! 

These  are  but  the  phantoms  of  thy  brain ; 
Nothing  can  befall  thee  which  thou  fearest, 
Thou  shalt  wake  to  love  and  life  again, 
Were  thy  sleep  thy  last, 
I  would  hold  thee  fast — 
Thou  shouldst  strive  against  me,  but  in  vain. 

v. 
"  Eros  will  protect  us,  and  will  hover, 

Guardian-like,  above  thee  all  the  night, 
Jealous  of  thee  as  of  some  fond  lover 
Chiding  back  the  rosy-fingered  light — 
He  will  be  thine  aid  : 
Canst  thou  feel  afraid 
When  his  torch  above  us  burneth  bright  ? 

VI. 
"  Lo  !  the  cressets  of  the  night  are  waning, 

Old  Orion  hastens  from  the  sky  ; 
Only  thou  of  all  things  art  remaining 
Unrefreshed  by  slumber- — thou  and  I 
Sound  and  sense  are  still, 
Even  the  distant  rill 
Murmurs  fainter  now,  and  languidly. 


HERMOTIMUS.  171 

VII. 

"  Come  and  rest  thee,  husband  !  " — and  no  longer 

Could  the  young  man  that  fond  call  resist : 
Vainly  was  he  warned,  for  love  was  stronger — 
Warmly  did  he  press  her  to  his  breast. 
Warmly  met  she  his ; 
Kiss  succeeded  kiss, 
Till  their  eyelids  closed,  with  sleep  oppressed. 

vni.  

Soon  Aurora  left  her  early  pillow, 

And  the  heavens  grew  rosy-rich  and  rare  ; 
Laughed  the  dewy  plain  and  glassy  billow, 
For  the  Golden  Gol  himself  was  there; 
And  the  vapor-screen 
Rose  the  hills  between, 
Steaming  up,  like  incense,  in  the  air. 

IX. 

O'er  her  husband  sat  lone  bending — 

Marble-like  and  marble-hued  he  lay ; 
Underneath  her  raven  locks  descending, 
Paler  seemed  his  face  and  ashen  grey  : 
And  so  white  his  brow, 
White  and  cold  as  snow — 
"  Husband  ! — Gods  !  his  soul  hath  passed  av/ay  !  " 

x. 

Raise  ye  up  the  pile  with  gloomy  shadow- 
Heap  it  with  the  mournful  cypress-bough  ! — 
And  they  raised  the  pile  upon  the  meadow, 
And  they  heaped  the  mournful  cypress  too  ; 
And  they  laid  the  dead 
On  his  funeral  bed, 
And  they  kindled  up  the  flames  below. 


172  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

XI. 
Night  again  was  come ;  but  oh,  how  lonely 

To  the  mourner  did  that  night  appear! 
Peace  nor  rest  it  brought,  but  sorrow  only, 
Vain  repinings  and  unwonted  fear 
Dimly  burned  the  lamp — 
Chill  the  air  and  damp — 
And  the  winds  without  were  moaning  drear. 

XII. 

Hush  !  a  voice  in  solemn  whispers  speaking, 

Breaks  within  the  twilight  of  the  room ; 
And  lone,  loud  and  wildly  shrieking, 

Starts  and  gazes  through  the  ghastly  gloom. 
Nothing  sees  she  there — 
All  is  empty  air, 
All  is  empty  as  a  rifled  tomb. 

XIII. 

Once  again  the  voice  beside  her  sounded, 

Low,  and  faint,  and  solemn  was  its  tone — 
4<  Nor  by  form  nor  shade  am  I  surrounded, 
Fleshly  home  and  dwelling  have  I  none. 
They  are  passed  away — 
Woe  is  me  !  to-day 
Hath  robbed  me  of  myself,  and  made  me  lone. 

XIV. 

"  Vainly  were  the  words  of  parting  spoken  ; 

Ever  more  must  Charon  turn  from  me. 
Still  my  thread  of  life  remains  unbroken, 
And  unbroken  ever  it  must  be; 
Only  they  may  rest 
Whom  the  Fates'  behest 
From  their  immortal  mansion  setteth  free. 


HERMO  TIM  US  173 

XV. 
"  I  have  seen  the  robes  of  Hermes  glisten — 

Seen  him  wave  afar  his  serpent  wand  ; 
But  to  me  the  herald  would  not  listen — 
When  the  dead  swept  by  at  his  command, 
Not  with  that  pale  crew 
Durst  I  venture  too — 
Ever  shut  for  me  the  quiet  land. 

XVI. 

"  Day  and  night  before  the  dreary  portal, 

Phantom-shapes,  the  guards  of  Hades,  lie  ; 
None  of  heavenly  kind,  nor  yet  of  mortal 
May  unchallenged  pass  the  warders  by. 
None  that  path  may  go, 
If  he  cannot  show 
His  drear  passport  to  eternity. 

XVII. 

"  Cruel  was  the  spirit-power  thou  gavest — 

Fatal,  O  Apollo,  was  thy  love  ! 
Pythian  ?  Archer  !  brightest  God  and  bravest, 
Hear,  oh  hear  me  from  thy  throne  above ! 
Let  me  not,  I  pray, 
Thus  be  cast  away  ; 
Plead  for  me,  thy  slave — O  plead  to  Jove  ! 

XVIII. 

"  I  have  heard  thee  with  the  Muses  singing 
Heard  that  full  melodious  voice  of  thine, 
Silver-clear  throughout  the  ether  ringing — 
Seen  thy  locks  in  golden  clusters  shine ; 
And  thine  eye  so  bright, 
With  its  innate  light, 
Hath  ere  now  been  bent  so  low  as  mine. 


174  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

XIX. 
"  Hast  thou  lost  the  wish — the  will — to  cherish 

Those  who  trusted  in  thy  god-like  power  ? 
Hyacinthus  did  not  wholly  perish  !     . 
Still  he  lives,  the  firstling  of  thy  bower ; 
Still  he  feels  thy  rays, 
Fondly  meets  thy  gaze, 
Though  but  now  the  spirit  of  a  flower. 

xx. 
"  Hear  me,  Phoebus  !     Hear  me  and  deliver! 

Lo  !  the  morning  breaketh  from  afar — 
God  !  thou  comest  bright  and  great  as  ever — 
Night  goes  back  before  thy  burning  car  ; 
All  her  lamps  are  gone — 
Lucifer  alone 
Lingers  still  for  thee — the  blessed  star ! 

XXI. 

"  Hear  me,  Phoebus  ! " — And  therewith  descended 

Through  the  window-arch  a  glory-gleam, 
All  effulgent— and  with  music  blended  ; 
For  such  solemn  sounds  arose  as  stream 
From  the  Memnon-lyre, 
When  the  morning  fire 
Gilds  the  giant's  forehead  with  its  beam. 

XXII. 

"  Thou  hast  heard  thy  servant's  prayer,  Apollo  ! 
Thou  dost  call  me,  mighty  God  of  Day ! 
Fare-thee-well,  lone  !  " — And  more  hollow 
Came  the  phantom  voice,  then  died  away. 

When  the  slaves  arose, 

Not  in  calm  repose — 
Not  in  sleep,  but  death,  their  mistress  lay. 


(ENONE 


ON  the  holy  mount  of  Ida, 

Where  the  pine  and  cypress  grow, 
Sate  a  young  and  lovely  woman, 

Weeping  ever,  weeping  low. 
Drearily  throughout  the  forest 

Did  the  winds  of  autumn  blow, 
And  the  clouds  above  were  flying, 

And  Scamander  rolled  below. 


"  Faithless  Paris  !  cruel  Paris !  " 

Thus  the  poor  deserted  spake — 
"  Wherefore  thus  so  strangely  leave  me  ? 

Why  thy  loving  bride  forsake  ? 
Why  no  tender  word  at  parting — 

Why  no  kiss,  no  farewell  take  ? 
Would  that  I  could  but  forget  thee  ! 

Would  this  throbbing  heart  might  break ! 


176  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

"  Is  my  face  no  longer  blooming  ? 

Are  my  eyes  no  longer  bright  ? 
Ah  !  my  tears  have  made  them  dimmer, 

And  my  cheeks  are  pale  and  white. 
I  have  wept  since  early  morning, 

I  shall  weep  the  livelong  night ; 
Now  I  long  for  sullen  darkness, 

As  I  once  have  longed  for  light. 

"  Paris  !   canst  thou  then  be  cruel ! 

Fair,  and  young,  and  brave  thou  art- 
Can  it  be  that  in  thy  bosom 

Lies  so  cold,  so  hard  a  heart  ? 
Children  were  we  bred  together — 

She  who  bore  me  suckled  thee ; 
I  have  been  thine  old  companion, 

When  thou  hadst  no  more  but  me. 

"  I  have  watched  thee  in  thy  slumbers. 

When  the  shadow  of  a  dream 
Passed  across  thy  smiling  features, 

Like  the  ripple  on  a  stream  ; 
And  so  sweetly  were  the  visions 

Pictured  there  with  lively  grace, 
That  I  half  could  read  their  import 

By  the  changes  on  thy  face. 

"  When  I  sang  of  Ariadne, 

Sang  the  old  and  mournful  tale, 

How  her  faithless  lover,  Theseus, 
Left  her  to  lament  and  wail ; 


(ENONE.  177 

Then  thine  eyes  would  fill  and  glisten, 
Her  complaint  could  soften  thee  : 

Thou  hast  wept  for  Ariadne — 
Theseus'  self  might  weep  for  me ! 

Thou  may'st  find  another  maiden 

With  a  fairer  face  than  mine — 
With  a  gayer  voice  and  sweeter, 

And  a  spirit  liker  thine  ; 
For  if  e'er  my  beauty  bound  thee, 

Lost  and  broken  is  the  spell ; 
But  thou  canst  not  find  another 

That  will  love  thee  half  so  well. 

"  O  thou  hollow  ship,  that  bearest 

Paris  o'er  the  faithless  deep  ! 
Wouidst  thou  leave  him  on  some  island 

Where  alone  the  waters  weep  ; 
Where  no  human  foot  is  moulded 

In  the  wet  and  yellow  sand — 
Leave  him  there,  thou  hollow  vessel ! 

Leave  him  on  that  lonely  strand  i 

w  Then  his  heart  will  surely  soften, 

When  his  foolish  hopes  decay, 
And  his  older  love  rekindle, 

As  the  new  one  dies  away. 
Visionary  hills  will  haunt  him, 

Rising  from  the  glassy  sea. 
And  his  thoughts  will  wander  homeward 

Unto  Ida  and  to  me. 


iy8  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

"  Oh !  that  like  a  little  swallow 

I  could  reach  that  lonely  spot ! 
All  his  errors  would  be  pardoned, 

All  the  weary  past  forgot. 
Never  should  he  wander  from  me — 

Never  should  he  more  depart ; 
For  these  arms  would  be  his  prison, 

And  his  home  would  be  my  heart ! " 

Thus  lamented  fair  CEnone, 

Weeping  ever,  weeping  low, 
On  the  holy  Mount  of  Ida, 

Where  the  pine  and  cypress  grow. 
In  the  self-same  hour  Cassandra 

Shrieked  her  prophecy  of  woe, 
And  into  the  Spartan  dwelling 

Did  the  faithless  Paris  go. 


THE  BURIED  FLOWER. 


IN  the  silence  of  my  chamber, 
When  the  night  is  still  and  deep, 

And  the  drowsy  heave  of  ocean 
Mutters  in  its  charmed  sleep, 


ii. 


Oft  I  hear  the  angel  voices 

That  have  thrilled  me  long  ago,— 
Voices  of  my  lost  companions, 

Lying  deep  beneath  the  snow. 


in. 


Oh,  the  garden  I  remember, 
In  the  gay  and  sunny  spring, 

When  our  laughter  made  the  thickets 
And  the  arching  alleys  ring ! 


l8o  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

IV. 

Oh,  the  merry  burst  of  gladness ! 

Oh,  the  soft  and  tender  tone ! 
Oh,  the  whisper  never  uttered 

Save  to  one  fond  ear  alone  ! 

v. 

Oh,  the  light  of  life  that  sparkled 
In  those  bright  and  bounteous  eyes  ! 

Oh,  the  blush  of  happy  beauty, 
Tell-tale  of  the  heart's  surprise  ! 

VI. 

Oh,  the  radiant  light  that  girdled 
Field  and  forest,  land  and  sea, 

When  we  all  were  young  together, 
And  the  earth  was  new  to  me ! 

VII. 

Where  are  now  the  flowers  we  tended  ? 
Withered,  broken,  branch  and  stem  : 
Where  are  now  the  hopes  we  cherished  ? 
Scattered  to  the  winds  with  them. 

VIII. 

For  ye,  too,  were  flowers,  ye  dear  ones  ! 

Nursed  in  hope  and  reared  in  love, 
Looking  fondly  ever  upward 

To  the  clear  blue  heaven  above : 

IX. 

Smiling  on  the  sun  that  cheered  us, 
Rising  lightly  from  the  rain, 

Never  folding  up  your  freshness 
Save  to  give  it  forth  again  : 


THE  BURIED  FLOWER.  181 

X. 

Never  shaken,  save  by  accents 
From  a  tongue  that  was  not  free, 

As  the  modest  blossom  trembles 
At  the  wooing  of  the  bee, 

XI. 

Oh,  'tis  sad  to  lie  and  reckon 

All  the  days  of  faded  youth, 
All  the  vows  that  we  believed  in, 

All  the  words  we  spoke  in  truth. 

XII. 

Severed — were  it  severed  only 

By  an  idle  thought  of  strife, 
Such  as  time  may  knit  together  ; 

Not  the  broken  chord  of  life  ! 

XIII. 

O  my  heart !  that  once  so  truly 

Kept  another's  time  and  tune ; 
Heart,  that  kindled  in  the  morning, 

Look  around  thee  in  the  noon ! 

XIV. 

Where  are  they  who  gave  the  impulse 

To  thy  earliest  thought  and  flow  ? 
Look  across  the  ruined  garden — 

All  are  withered,  drooped,  or  low  ! 

xv. 
Seek  the  birthplace  of  the  Lily, 

Dearer  to  the  boyish  dream 
Than  the  golden  cups  of  Eden, 

Floating  on  its  slumberous  stream  ; 


1 82  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

XVI. 
Never  more  shalt  thou  behold  her— 

She,  the  noblest,  fairest,  best : 
She  that  rose  in  fullest  beauty, 

Like  a  queen,  above  the  rest. 

XVII. 

Only  still  I  keep  her  image 
As  a  thought  that  cannot  die ; 

He  who  raised  the  shade  of  Helen 
Had  no  greater  power  than  I. 

XVIII. 

Oh,  I  fling  my  spirit  backward, 
And  I  pass  o'er  years  of  pain  ; 

All  I  loved  is  rising  round  me, 
All  the  lost  returns  again. 

XIX. 

Blow,  for  ever  blow,  ye  breezes, 

Warmly  as  ye  did  before 
Bloom  again,  ye  happy  gardens, 

With  the  radiant  tints  of  yore ! 

xx. 
Warble  out  in  spray  and  thicket, 

All  ye  choristers  unseen  ; 
Let  the  leafy  woodland  echo 

With  an  anthem  to  its  queen  ! 

XXI. 

Lo  !  she  cometh  in  her  beauty, 
Stately  with  a  Juno  grace, 

Raven  locks,  Madonna-braided 
O'er  her  sweet  and  blushing  face. 


THE  BURIED  FLOWER.  183 

XXII. 

Eyes  of  depest  violet,  beaming 

With  the  love  that  knows  not  shame — 
Lips,  that  thrill  my  inmost  being, 

With  the  utterance  of  a  name. 

xxi.n. 
And  I  bend  the  knee  before  her, 

As  a  captive  ought  to  bow, — 
Pray  thee,  listen  to  my  pleading, 

Sovereign  of  my  soul  art  thou ! 

XXIV. 

Oh,  my  dear  and  gentle  lady ! 

Let  me  show  thee  all  my  pain, 
Ere  the  words  that  late  were  prisoned 

Sink  into  my  heart  again. 

XXV. 

Love,  they  say,  is  very  fearful 

Ere  its  curtain  be  withdrawn, 
Trembling  at  the  thought  of  error 

As  the  shadows  scare  the  fawn. 

XXVI. 

Love  hath  bound  me  to  thee,  lady, 

Since  the  well-remembered  day 
When  I  first  beheld  thee  coming 

In  the  light  of  lustrous  May. 

XXVII. 

Not  a  word  I  dared  to  utter — 

More  than  he  who,  long  ago, 
Saw  the  heavenly  shapes  descending 

Over  Ida's  slopes  of  snow  ; 


1 84  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

XXVIII. 
When  a  low  and  solemn  music 

Floated  through  the  listening  grove, 
And  the  throstle's  song  was  silenced, 

And  the  doling  of  the  dove  : 

XXIX. 

When  immortal  beauty  opened 
All  its  charms  to  mortal  sight, 

And  the  awe  of  worship  blended 
With  the  throbbing  of  delight. 

XXX. 

As  the  shepherd  stood  before  them 
Trembling  in  the  Phrygian  dell, 

Even  so  my  soul  and  being 
Owned  the  magic  of  the  spell  ; 

XXXI. 

And  I  watched  thee  ever  fondly, 
Watched  thee,  dearest !  from  afar, 

With  the  mute  and  humble  homage 
Of  the  Indian  to  a  star. 

XXXII. 

Thou  wert  still  the  lady  Flora 
In  her  morning  garb  of  bloom  ; 

Where  thou  wert  was  light  and  glory, 
Where  thou  wert  not,  dearth  and  gloom. 

XXXIII. 

So  for  many  a  day  I  followed, 
For  a  long  and  weary  while, 

Ere  my  heart  rose  up  to  bless  thee 
For  the  yielding  of  a  smile, — 


THE  BURIED  FLOWER. 
XXXIV. 

Ere  thy  words  were  few  and  broken 

As  they  answered  back  to  mine, 
Ere  my  lips  had  power  to  thank  thee 

For  the  gift  vouchsafed  by  thine. 

xxxv. 
Then  a  mighty  gush  of  passion 

Through  my  inmost  being  ran  ; 
Then  my  older  life  was  ended, 

And  a  dearer  course  began. 

XXXVI. 

Dearer  ! — Oh  !  I  cannot  tell  thee 
What  a  load  was  swept  away, 

What  a  world  of  doubt  and  darkness 
Faded  in  the  dawning  day  ! 

XXXVII. 

All  my  error,  all  my  weakness, 
All  my  vain  delusions  fled ; 

Hope  again  revived,  and  gladness 
Waved  its  wings  above  my  head. 

XXXVIII. 

Like  the  wanderer  of  the  desert, 

When,  across  the  dreary  sand, 
Breathes  the  perfume  from  the  thickets 

Bordering  on  the  promised  land  : 

xxxix. 
When  afar  he  sees  the  palm-trees 

Cresting  o'er  the  lonely  well, 
When  he  hears  the  pleasant  tinkle 

Of  the  distant  camel's  bell : 


185 


186  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

XL. 
So  a  fresh  and  glad  emotion 

Rose  within  my  swelling  breast, 
And  I  hurried  swiftly  onwards 

To  the  haven  of  my  rest. 

XLI. 
Thou  wert  there  with  word  and  welcome, 

With  thy  smile  so  purely  sweet ; 
And  I  laid  my  heart  before  thee, 

Laid  it,  darling  !  at  thy  feet. 

XLII. 
Oh,  ye  words  that  sound  so  hollow 

As  I  now  recall  your  tone  ! 
What  are  ye  but  empty  echoes 

Of  a  passion  crushed  and  gone  ? 

XLJII. 
Wherefore  should  I  seek  to  kindle 

Light,  when  all  around  is  gloom  ? 
Wherefore  should  I  raise  a  phantom 

O'-er  the  dark  and  silent  tomb  ? 

XLIV. 
Early  wert  thou  taken,  Mary ! 

In  thy  fair  and  glorious  prime, 
Ere  the  bees  had  ceased  to  murmur 
Through  the  umbrage  of  the  lime. 
XLV. 

Buds  were  blowing,  waters  flowing, 
Birds  were  singing  on  the  tree, 

Everything  was  bright  and  glowing, 
When  the  angels  came  for  thee. 


THE  BURIED  FLOWER. 

XLVI. 
Death  had  laid  aside  his  terror, 

And  he  found  thee  calm  and  mild, 
Lying  in  thy  robes  of  whiteness, 

Like  a  pure  and  stainless  child. 

XLVII. 
Hardly  had  the  mountain-violet 

Spread  its  blossoms  on  the  sod, 
Ere  they  laid  the  turf  above  thee, 
And  thy  spirit  rose  to  God. 

XLVIII. 
Early  wert  thou  taken,  Mary  ! 

And  I  know  'tis  vain  to" weep — 
Tears  of  mine  can  never  wake  thee 
From  thy  sad  and  silent  sleep. 
XLIX. 

Oh,  away !  my  thoughts  are  earthward 

Not  asleep,  my  love,  art  thou  ! 
Dwelling  in  the  land  of  glory 

With  the  saints  and  angels  now. 

L. 
Brighter,  fairer  far  than  living, 

With  no  trace  of  woe  or  pain, 
Robed  in  everlasting  beauty, 

Shall  I  see  thee  once  again, 

LI. 
By  the  light  that  never  fadeth, 

Underneath  eternal  skies, 
When  the  dawn  of  resurrection 

Breaks  o'er  deathless  Paradise. 


THE  OLD  CAMP 

WRITTEN  IN  A  ROMAN  FORTIFICATION  IN  BAVARIA. 


THERE  is  a  cloud  before  the  sun, 

The  wind  is  hushed  and  still, 
And  silently  the  waters  run 

Beneath  the  sombre  hill. 
The  sky  is  dark  in  every  place 

As  is  the  earth  below  : 
Methinks  it  wore  the  self-same  face 

Two  thousand  years  ago. 

n. 

No  light  is  on  the  ancient  wall, 

No  light  upon  the  mound  ; 
The  very  trees,  so  thick  and  tall, 

Cast  gloom,  not  shade,  around. 
So  silent  is  the  place  and  cold, 

So  far  from  human  ken, 
It  hath  a  look  that  makes  me  old, 

And  spectres  time  again. 


THE  OLD  CAMP.  189 

III. 

I  listen,  half  in  thought  to  hear 

The  Roman  trumpet  blow — 
I  search  for  glint  of  helm  and  spear 

Amidst  the  forest  bough  ; 
And  armor  rings,  and  voices  swell — 

I  hear  the  legion's  tramp, 
And  mark  the  lonely  sentinel 

Who  guards  the  lonely  camp. 


IV. 


Methinks  I  have  no  other  home, 

No  other  hearth  to  find  ; 
For  nothing  save  the  thought  of  Rome 

Is  stirring  in  my  mind. 
And  all  that  I  have  heard  or  dreamed, 

And  all  I  had  forgot, 
Are  rising  up,  as  though  they  seemed 

The  household  of  the  spot. 

v. 

And  all  the  names  that  Romans  knew 

Seem  just  as  known  to  me, 
As  if  I  were  a  Roman  too — 

A  Roman  born  and  free : 
And  I  could  rise  at  Caesar's  name, 

As  though  it  were  a  charm 
To  draw  sharp  lightning  from  the  tame, 

And  brace  the  coward's  arm. 


190  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

VI. 

And  yet  if  yonder  sky  were  blue 

And  earth  were  sunny  gay, 
If  nature  wore  the  witching  hue 

That  decked  her  yesterday — 
The  mound,  the  trench,  the  rampart's  space 

Would  move  me  nothing  more 
Than  many  a  sweet  sequestered  place 

That  I  have  marked  before. 

VII. 

I  could  not  feel  the  breezes  bring 

Rich  odors  from  the  trees, 
I  could  not  hear  the  linnets  sing, 

And  think  on  themes  like  these. 
The  painted  insects  as  they  pass 

In  swift  and  motley  strife, 
The  very  lizard  in  the  grass, 

Would  scare  me  back  to  life. 

VIII. 

Then  is  the  past  so  gloomy  now 

That  it  may  never  bear 
The  open  smile  of  nature's  brow, 

Or  meet  the  sunny  air  ? 
I  know  not  that — but  joy  is  power, 

However  short  it  last  ; 
And  joy  befits  the  present  hour, 

If  sadness  fits  the  past. 


DANUBE  AND  THE  EUXINE. 

1848. 


"  DANUBE,  Danube  !  wherefore  com'st  thou 

Red  and  raging  to  my  caves  ? 
Wherefore  leap  thy  swollen  waters 

Madly  through  the  broken  waves  ? 
Wherefore  is  thy  tide  so  sullied  " 

With  a  hue  unknown  to  me  ; 
Wherefore  dost  thou  bring  pollution 

To  the  old  and  sacred  sea  ?  " 
"  Ha  !    rejoice,  old  Father  Euxine  ! 

I  am  brimming  full  and  red  ; 
Glorious  tokens  do  I  bring  thee 

From  my  distant  channel-bed. 
I  have  been  a  Christian  river 

Dull  and  slow  this  many  a  year, 
Rolling  down  my  torpid  waters 

Through  a  silence  morne  and  drear ; 
Have  not  felt  the  tread  of  armies 

Trampling  on  my  reedy  shore  ; 
Have  not  heard  the  trumpet  calling, 

Or  the  cannon's  echoing  roar  ; 


I92  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Only  listened  to  the  laughter 

From  the  village  and  the  town, 
And  the  church-bells,  ever  jangling, 

As  the  weary  day  went  down 
So  I  lay  and  sorely  pondered 

On  the  days  long  since  gone  by, 
When  my  old  primaeval  forests 

Echoed  to  the  war-man's  cry  ; 
When  the  race  of  Thor  and  Odin 

Held  their  battles  by  my  side, 
And  the  blood  of  man  was  mingling 

Warmly  with  my  chilly  tide. 
Father  Euxine !  thou  rememb'rest 

How  I  brought  thee  tribute  then — 
Swollen  corpses,  gashed  and  gory, 

Heads  and  limbs  of  slaughtered  men  ? 
Father  Euxine  !   be  thou  joyful ! 

I  am  running  red  once  more — 
Not  with  heathen  blood,  as  early, 

But  with  gallant  Christian  gore. 
For  the  old  times  are  returning, 

And  the  Cross  is  broken  down, 
And  I  hear  the  tocsin  sounding 

In  the  village  and  the  town  : 
And  the  glare  of  burning  cities 

Soon  shall  light  me  on  my  way — 
Ha!  my  heart  is  big  and  jocund 

With  the  draught  I  drank  to-day. 
Ha !   I  feel  my  strength  awakened, 

And  my  brethren  shout  to  me ; 
Each  is  leaping  red  and  joyous 

To  his  own  awaiting  sea. 


DANUBE  AND  THE  EUXINE.  193 

Rhine  and  Elbe  are  plunging  downward 

Through  their  wild  anarchic  land, 
Everywhere  are  Christians  falling 

By  their  brother  Christians'  hand! 
Yea,  the  old  times  are  returning, 

And  the  olden  gods  are  here  ! 
Take  my  tribute,  Father  Euxine, 

To  thy  waters  dark  and  drear ! 
Therefore  come  I  with  my  torrents, 

Shaking  castle,  crag,  and  town ; 
Therefore,  with  my  arms  uplifted, 

Sweep  I  herd  and  herdsman  down  ; 
Therefore  leap  I  to  thy  bosom 

With  a  loud  triumphal  roar — 
Greet  me,  greet  me,  Father  Euxine— 

I  am  Christian  stream  no  more  ! " 


THE  SCHEIK  OF  SINAI. 


IN    1830. 


FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  FREILIGRATH. 


"  LIFT  me  without  the  tent,  I  say, — 

Me  and  my  ottoman, — 
I'll  see  the  messenger  myself ! 
It  is  the  caravan 

From  Africa,  thou  sayest, 

And  they  bring  us  news  of  war  ? 
Draw  me  without  the  tent,  and  quick 

As  at  the  desert-well 
The  freshness  of  the  bubbling  stream 
Delights  the  tired  gazelle, 

So  pant  I  for  the  voice  of  him 
That  cometh  from  afar !  " 


THE  SCHEIK  OF  SIN  AT. 

The  Scheik  was  lifted  from  his  tent, 

And  thus  outspake  the  Moor  : — 
"  I  saw,  old  Chief,  the  Tricolor 
On  Algiers'  topmost  tower — 
Upon  its  battlements  the  silks 

Of  Lyons  flutter  free. 
Each  morning,  in  the  market-place, 

The  muster-drum  is  beat, 
And  to  the  war  hymn  of  Marseilles 
The  squadrons  pace  the  street. 
The  armament  from  Toulon  sailed 
The  Franks  have  crossed  the  sea. 


"  Towards  the  south  the  columns  marched 

Beneath  a  cloudless  sky, 
Their  weapons  glittered  in  the  blaze 
Of  the  sun  of  Barbary  ; 

And  with  the  dusty  desert  sand 

Their  horses'  manes  were  white. 
The  wild  marauding  tribes  dispersed 

In  terror  of  their  lives ; 
They  fled  unto  the  mountains 

With  their  children  and  their  wives, 

And  urged  the  clumsy  dromedary 

Up  the  Atlas'  height. 

IV. 

"  The  Moors  have  ta'en  their  vantage-ground, 

The  volleys  thunder  fast — 
The  dark  defile  is  blazing 

Like  a  heated  oven-blast. 


1 96  MISCELLANEO  US  POEMS. 

The  Lion  hears  the  strange  turmoil, 

And  leaves  his  mangled  prey — 
No  place  was  that  for  him  to  feed — 

And  thick  and  loud  the  cries, 
Feu  !  Allah  /—Allah  !  En  avant  ! 
In  mingled  discord  rise  : 

The  Franks  have  reached  the  summit ; 
They  have  won  the  victory  ! 

v. 

"  With  bristling  steel,  upon  the  top 

The  victors  take  their  stand  ; 
Beneath  their  feet,  with  all  its  towns, 
They  see  the  promised  land — 
From  Tunis,  even  unto  Fez, 

From  Atlas  to  the  seas. 
The  cavaliers  alight  to  gaze  ; 

And  gaze  full  well  they  may, 
Where  countless  minarets  stand  up 
So  solemnly  and  grey, 
Amidst  the  dark-green  masses 
Of  the  flowering  myrtle-trees. 

VI. 

"  The  almond  blossoms  in  the  vale, 

The  aloe  from  the  rock 
Throws  out  its  long  and  prickly  leaves, 
Nor  dreads  the  tempest's  shock : 
A  blessed  land,  I  ween,  is  that, 

Though  luckless  is  its  Bey. 
There  lies  the  sea — beyond  lies  France  ! 
Her  banners  in  the  air 


THE  SCHEIK  OF  SINAI.  197 

Float  proudly  and  triumphantly — 
A  salvo  !  come,  prepare  ! 

And  loud  and  long  the  mountains  rang 
With  that   glad  artillery." 

VII. 

"Tis  they  !"  exclaimed  the  aged  Scheik. 

"  I've  battled  by  their  side — 
I  fought  beneath  the  Pyramids ! 
That  day  of  deathless  pride — 

Red  as  thy  turban,  Moor,  that  eve, 

Was  every  creek  in  Nile  ! 
But  tell  me" — and  he  griped  his  hand — 

"Their  Sultaun  ?     Stranger,  say — 
His  form — his  face — his  gesture,  man — 
Thou  saw'st  him  in  the  fray  ? 

His  eye — what  wore  he  ? "  But  the  Moor 
Sought  in  his  vest  awhile. 

VIII. 

"  Their  Sultaun,  Scheik,  remains  at  home 

Within  his  palace  walls  ; 
He  sends  a  Pasha  in  his  stead 
To  brave  the  bolts  and  balls. 

He  was  not  there.     An  Aga  burst 

For  him  through  Atlas'  hold. 
Yet  I  can  show  thee  somewhat  too  ; 

A  Frankish  Cavalier 
Told  me  his  effigy  was  stamped 
Upon  this  medal  here — 
He  gave  it  me  with  others 
For  an  Arab  steed  I  sold." 


198  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

IX. 

The  old  man  took  the  golden  coin : 

Gazed  steadfastly  awhile, 
If  that  could  be  the  Sultaun 
Whom  from  the  banks  of  Nile 

He  guided  o'er  the  desert  path  ? — 

Then  sighed  and  thus  spake  he — 
"  'Tis  not  his  eye — 'tis  not  his  brow — 

Another  face  is  there  ; 
I  never  saw  this  man  before — 
His  head  is  like  a  pear  ? 

Take  back  thy  medal,  Moor — 'tis  not 
That  which  I  thought  to  see." 


EPITAPH    OF   CONSTANTINE 
KANARIS. 

FROM    THE    GERMAN    OF    WILHELM    MULLER. 


I  AM  Constantine  Kanaris. 

I,  who  lie  beneath  this  stone, 
Twice  into  the  air  in  thunder 

Have  the  Turkish  galleys  blown. 

In  my  bed  I  died — a  Christian, 

Hoping  straight  with  Christ  to  be  ; 

Yet  one  earthly  wish  is  buried 
Deep  within  the  grave  with  me— 

That  upon  the  open  ocean, 

When  the  third  Armada  came, 

They  and  I  had  died  together, 
Whirled  aloft  on  wings  of  flame. 

Yet  'tis  something  that  they've  laid  me 

In  a  land  without  a  stain  : 
Keep  it  thus,  my  God  and  Saviour, 

Till  I  rise  from  earth  again  ! 


THE    REFUSAL   OF   CHARON.* 


FROM  THE  ROMAIC. 


WHY  look  the  distant  mountains 

So  gloomy  and  so  drear  ? 
Are  rain-clouds  passing  o'er  them, 

Or  is  the  tempest  near  ? 
No  shadow  of  the  tempest 

Is  there  nor  wind  nor  rain — • 
'Tis  Charon  that  is  passing  by, 

With  all  his  gloomy  train. 

The  young  men  march  before  him, 

In  all  their  strength  and  pride ; 
The  tender  little  infants, 

They  totter  by  his  side  ; 
The  old  men  walk  behind  him, 

And  earnestly  they  pray — 
Both  young  and  old  imploring  him 

To  grant  some  brief  delay. 

*  According  to  the  superstition  of  the  modern  Greeks,  Charon 
performs  the  function  which  their  ancestors  assigned  to  Hermes, 
of  conducting  the  souls  of  the  dead  to  the  other  world. 


THE  REFUSAL  OF  CHARON.  201 

"  O  Charon !  halt,  we  pray  thee, 

By  yonder  little  town, 
Or  near  that  sparkling  fountain, 

Where  the  waters  wimple  down ! 
The  old  will  drink  and  be  refreshed, 

The  young  the  disc  will  fling, 
And  the  tender  little  children 

Pluck  flowers  beside  the  spring." 

"  I  will  not  stay  my  journey, 

Nor  halt  by  any  town, 
Near  any  sparkling  fountain, 

Where  the  waters  wimple  down  : 
The  mothers  coming  to  the  well 

Would  know  the  babes  they  bore ; 
The  wives  would  clasp  their  husbands, 

Nor  could  I  part  them  more." 


APPENDIX. 


EXAMINATION  OF  THE  STATEMENTS  IN  MR.  MACAULAY'S 
HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND,  REGARDING  JOHN  GRAHAME  OF 
CLAVERHOUSE,  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE. 

"  Discarding  modern  historians ,  "who  in  too  many  instances  do  not  seem 
to  entertain  the  slightest  scruple  in  dealing  with  the  memory  of  the  dead" 

Preface  to  BURIAL-MARCH  OF  DUNDEE — P.    57. 

SINCE  the  first  edition  of  this  volume  was  published,  Mr. 
Macaulay's  long-promised  History  of  England  has  been 
given  to  the  public.  Without  wishing  in  any  way  to  detract 
from  the  general  merits  of  a  work  which  has  already  at- 
tained so  great  popularity,  but,  on  the  contrary,  acknowl- 
edging with  gratitude  the  delight  I  have  received  from  its 
perusal,  I  must  take  the  liberty  of  challenging  its  accuracy 
with  regard  to  many  of  the  details  referring  to  Scottish 
events,  more  especially  those  connected  with  the  proceed- 
ings which  were  instituted  against  the  Covenanters.  With 
the  political  conclusions  drawn  by  the  learned  and  accom- 
plished author,  I  have  of  course  nothing  to  do  :  these  fall 
within  the  sphere  of  private  judgment ;  and  though  I  dif- 
fer from  him  very  largely  in  his  estimate  both  of  men  and 
measures,  I  am  not  entitled  to  enter  into  such  an  argu- 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  203 

ment.  But  the  facts  set  forth  by  an  historian  are  public 
property,  and  I  shall  now  proceed  to  examine  the  charges 
which  Mr.  Macaulay  has  brought  against  Lord  Dundee, 
and  the  authorities  upon  which  those  charges  have  been 
founded. 

With  reference  to  the  proceedings  in  the  west  of  Scot- 
land, during  the  year  1685,  Mr.  Macaulay  says:  "Those 
shires  in  which  the  Covenanters  were  most  numerous  were 
given  up  to  the  license  of  the  army.  With  the  army  was 
mingled  a  militia,  composed  of  the  most  violent  and  prof- 
ligate of  those  who  called  themselves  Episcopalians.  Pre- 
eminent among  the  bands  which  oppressed  and  wasted 
these  unhappy  districts  were  the  dragoons  commanded  by 
James  Graham  of  Claverhouse.  The  story  ran  that  these 
wicked  men  used  in  their  revels  to  play  at  the  torments  of 
hell,  and  to  call  each  other  by  the  names  of  devils  and 
damned  souls.  The  chief  of  this  Tophet  on  earth,  a  sol- 
dier of  distinguished  courage  and  professional  skill,  but  ra- 
pacious and  profane,  of  violent  temper  and  of  obdurate 
heart,  has  left  a  name  which  wherever  the  Scottish  race  is 
settled  on  the  face  of  the  globe,  is  mentioned  with  a  pecu- 
liar energy  of  hatred." 

These  are  hard  words  :  let  us  now  see  how  they  are 
justified.  The  name  which  has  been  left  by  '*  the  chief  of  this 
Tophet  on  earth  "  is  at  all  events  not  that  which  has  been 
set  forth  by  Mr.  Macaulay  in  his  History.  There  never 
was  any  such  person  as  James  Graham  of  Claverhouse.  We 
know  indeed  of  one  James  Grahame  who  was  conspicuous 
in  Scottish  history,  and  his  name  has  ere  now  been  exposed 
to  as  much  calumny  and  vituperation  as  is  still  lavished 
on  his  gallant  relative  ;  but  loyalists  venerate  him  as  the 
great  Marquess  of  Montrose.  JOHN  GRAHAME  of  Claver- 
house we  know  also,  and  men  speak  of  him  as  the  Viscount 
of  Dundee.  But  of  Mr.  Macaulay's  James  Graham  we 


204  APPENDIX. 

know  nothing  ;  neither  has  that  name,  as  applied  to  Claver- 
house,  a  place  in  any  accredited  history  save  his  own. 

It  may  appear  trivial  to  insist  upon  a  mistake,  which, 
however,  has  been  perpetuated  through  several  editions  ; 
but  it  is  not  without  its  importance.  No  man  really  fa- 
miliar with  the  history  of  Scotland  could  have  committed 
such  a  blunder  ;  he  might  just  as  well  have  talked  of  the 
good  Sir  Joshua  Douglas,  or  of  Tobias  Randolph,  Earl  of 
Moray.  And,  therefore,  in  repeated  instances,  when  Scot- 
land or  the  Scots  are  mentioned,  we  find  Mr.  Macaulay's 
assertions  at  variance  with  the  ordinary  records  of  history. 
Take,  for  example,  his  statement  that  "  the  Scottish  peo- 
ple "  had  "  butchered  their  first  James  in  his  bed-chamber," 
which  is  just  about  as  correct  as  if  we  were  to  say  that  the 
people  of  France  butchered  Henry  IV.,  because  that  mon- 
arch was  assassinated  by  Ravillac,  or  that  the  British  na- 
tion approves  of  regicide  because  a  maniac  has  fired  at  the 
Queen  !  Surely  Mr.  Macauley,  before  exerting  his  rhetoric 
to  blacken  the  character  of  so  eminent  a  personage  as 
Lord  Dundee,  might  have  taken  the  trouble  to  consult  some 
record  of  the  peerage  for  his  name. 

Mr.  Macaulay  is  pleased  to  stigmatize  Claverhouse  by 
using  the  epithet  "rapacious."  This  is  altogether  a  new 
charge,  and  for  it  he  has  not  vouchsafed  the  slightest  author- 
ity. Cruel,  bloody,  and  profane  are  epithets  with  which  we 
are  familiar  ;  writers  on  the  Covenanting  side  have  used 
them  over  and  over  again  ;  and  if  the  narratives  upon  which 
they  proceed,  and  which  many  of  them  conscientiously  be- 
lieve, were  authenticated,  they  are  unquestionably  justified 
in  doing  so.  But  rapacity  is,  I  repeat,  a  new  charge.  The 
worst  foe  of  Claverhouse  never  yet  hinted  that  there  was 
anything  mean  or  sordid  in  his  disposition.  No  instance 
of  bribery  can  be  alleged  against  him  ;  he  levied  no  con- 
tributions ;  and  with  every  opportunity  within  his  reach  of 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  205 

amassing  a  large  fortune,  he  died  in  comparative  poverty. 
I  am  certain  that  no  man  really  acquainted  with  Scottish 
history,  whatever  be  his  political  or  traditional  opinions, 
will  gainsay  me  in  this  ;  and  as  this  particular  charge  has 
been  brought  forward  without  a  shadow  of  authority  to 
support  it,  I  can  only  express  my  regret  that  an  author 
who  can  write  so  well  should  be  so  reckless  in  the  choice 
of  his  epithets. 

The  "  profanity "  imputed  to  Claverhouse  deserves  a 
few  words.  So  far  as  I  can  discover,  the  charge  is  founded 
upon  certain  expressions  said  to  have  been  used  by  him 
immediately  after  John  Brown,  the  carrier  of  Priestfield,  was 
shot.  If  used,  the  charge  is  amply  proven.  I  shall  presently 
have  occasion  to  consider  the  historical  vouchers  for  this 
remarkable  story,  upon  which  so  great  stress  has  been 
laid,  and  to  state  my  grounds  for  maintaining  that  it  is 
utterly  unworthy  of  credence.  In  the  mean  time,  and  as 
to  the  general  charge,  I  shall  content  myself  by  quoting 
the  words  of  a  witness  who  was  personally  acquainted 
with  Dundee,  and  whose  testimony  is  liable  to  no  other  ex- 
ception, save  what  may  be  cast  upon  him  in  his  capacity 
of  a  gentleman  and  a  Jacobite.  "  His  lordship  was  so  nice 
in  point  of  honor,  and  so  true  to  his  word,  that  he  never 
was  known  once  to  break  it.  From  this  exactness  it  was 
that  he  once  lost  the  opportunity  of  an  easy  victory  over 
Mackay  in  Strathspey,  by  dismissing  Captain  Forbes  ;  who, 
meeting  the  two  troopers  sent  by  the  Lord  Kilsyth,  not 
only  discovered  that  intelligence,  but  the  neighborhood  of 
the  Highland  army,  as  I  have  formerly  related.  This  is 
the  only  real  error  chargeable  in  his  conduct,  while  he 
commanded  in  this  war.  But  this  is  the  more  excusable, 
that  it  proceeded  from  a  principle  of  religion,  whereof  he 
was  strictly  observant ;  for  besides  family  worship  per- 
formed regularly  evening  and  morning  at  his  house,  he  re- 


206  APPENDIX. 

tired  to  his  closet  at  certain  hours  and  employed  himself 
in  that  duty.  This  I  affirm  upon  the  testimony  of  several 
that  lived  in  his  neighborhood  in  Edinburg,  where  his 
office  of  Privy  Councillor  often  obliged  him  to  be  ;  and  par- 
ticularly from  a  Presbyterian  lady  who  lived  long  in  the 
story  or  house  immediately  below  his  lordship's,  and  who 
was  otherwise  so  rigid  in  her  opinions  that  she  could  not 
believe  a  good  thing  of  any  person  of  his  persuasion,  till 
his  conduct  rectified  her  mistake."  * 

As  for  the  general  morality  of  the  dragoons,  I  do  not 
feel  myself  called  upon  to  prove  that  they  were  faultless 
patterns  of  virtue.  I  shall  not  aver,  as  Mr.  Macaulay  has 
done  of  the  Puritans,  "  that  in  that  singular  camp,  no  riot 
was  heard,  no  drunkenness  or  gambling  was  seen."  I 
believe  that  austerity  was  never  yet  the  prevailing  charac- 
teristic of  any  barrack,  and  I  should  be  sorry  to  overstate 
my  case  by  random  laudations  even  of  the  Scottish  Life 
Guards.  But  when  we  are  gravely  told  that  these  soldiers 
"used  in  their  revels  to  play  at  the  torments  of  hell,  and 
to  call  each  other  by  the  names  of  devils  and  damned 
souls,"  one's  curiosity  is  certainly  'excited.  The  pastime 
is  fortunately  not  a  common  one  ;  it  was  not  recommended 
in  the  Book  of  Sports,  which  gave'  such  exceeding  offence 
to  the  Puritans  ;  and  the  nomenclature  alleged  to  be  em- 
ployed would  imply  an  intimate  knowledge  of  Demon- 
ology  far  from  usual  with  the  soldiery  of  that  period.  I 
look  to  Mr.  Macaulay's  note  for  his  authority,  and  I 
find  it  appended  in  the  shape  of  the  venerated  name  of 
Wodrow. 

English  readers  can  hardly  be  supposed  to  know  what 
manner  of  man  this  Wodrow  was,  whom,  in  preference  to 
any  other  chronicler,  Mr.  Macaulay  has  thought  fit  to  fol- 
low with  reference  to  that  period  of  Scottish  history.  It 

*  Memoirs  of  Sir  Ewen  Cameron  of  Locheill- 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  207 

may  therefore  be  proper,  very  shortly,  to   give  a  brief  ac- 
count of  his  writings,  style,  notions,  and  credibility. 

Robert  Wodrow,  minister  at  Eastwood,  is  tolerably  well 
known  to  Scottish  antiquaries  as  the  author  of  two  works — 
the  History  of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  and  the  Analecta,  or 
Materials  for  a  History  of  Remarkable  Providences,  mostly 
relating  to  Scotch  Ministers  and  Christians.  He  was  born 
in  1679,  was  consequently  a  mere  child  at  the  time  of  the 
Revolution,  and  gave  his  History  to  the  world  in  1721. 
That  History,  according  to  his  own  account,  was  compiled 
partly  from  existing  documents,  and  partly  from  the  nar- 
rative of  persons  who  had  orally  communicated  with  the 
author ;  and  a  most  extraordinary  history  it  is,  in  every 
sense  of  the  word. 

Born  in  a  credulous  age,  Wodrow  was  endowed  with  a 
power  of  credulity  which  altogether  transcended  bounds. 
He  has  not  unaptly  been  called  the  Scottish  Aubrey,  though 
Aubrey  by  the  side  of  Wodrow  would  almost  appear  a 
skeptic.  The  Romish  miracles  sink  into  insignificance 
compared  with  those  recorded  by  Mr.  Macaulay's  pet  au 
thority.  But  for  the  numerous,  though  possibly  uninten 
tional  profanities,  and  the  grossness  of  some  of  the  anec- 
dotes which  are  scattered  over  its  pages,  the  Analecta 
would  be  pleasant  reading.  We  learn  from  Wodrow  how 
Elizabeth  Kennedy,  sister  to  Hugh  Kennedy,  Provost  of 
Ayr,  being  extremely  ill  of  stone,  declined  submitting  to  a 
surgical  operation,  and  how  the  calculus  was  miraculously 
dissolved  at  the  intercession  of  a  prayer-meeting  assembled 
in  her  house.  We  read  of  corpses  sitting  up  in  bed,  announc- 
ing to  the  terrified  mourners  the  judgments  of  another 
world  ;  of  Mr.  John  Campbell  of  Craigie,  minister,  who 
had  an  interview  with  the  devil — not,  however,  unprofit- 
ably,  for  he  thereby  escaped  eating  a  poisoned  hen  for 
supper  ;  of  rats  which  were  sent  as  special  warnings  to  the 


208  APPENDIX. 

Reverend  Mr.  David  Williamson  ;  of  the  ghost  of  a  barber 
which  appeared  to  the  Reverend  Mr.  William  Leslie  ;  of  a 
gifted  horse  in  Annandale,  which  could  cure  the  king's  evil ; 
and  of  a  thousand  similar  instances  of  ludicrous  supersti- 
tion. These  anecdoies  are  not  confined  to  private  individuals 
• — for  persons  of  note  and  name  are  made  to  figure  in  the 
pages  of  Wodrow.  Take  as  an  example  the  following  mor- 
ceau  of  history,  gravely  narrated  of  Archbishop  Sharpe :  '* 
'  At  another  time,  Archbishop  Sharpe,  presiding  in  the  Privy 
Council,  was  earnest  to  have  Janet  Douglas  brought  before 
that  board,  accusing  her  o/  sorcery  and  witchcraft.  When 
she  was  brought,  she  vindicated  herself  of  that  alleged 
crime  ;  declaring,  though  she  knew  very  well  who  were 
witches,  yet  she  was  not  one  herself,  for  she  was  endeav- 
oring to  discover  those  seciet  hellish  plots,  and  to  counter- 
mine the  kingdom  of  darkness.  The  Archbishop  insisted 
she  might  be  sent  away  to  die  King's  plantations  in  the 
West  Indies.  She  only  dropt  one  word  to  the  Bishop  : — 
*  My  Lord/  says  she,  *  who  was  with  you  in  your  closet  on 
Saturday  night  last,  betwixt  twelve  and  one  o'clock  ? '  upon 
which  the  Bishop  changed  his  countenance,  and  turned 
black  and  pale,  and  then  no  more  was  said.  When  the 
Council  rose  up,  the  Duke  of  Rothes  called  Janet  into  a 
room  and  inquired  at  her  privately  '  who  that  person  was 
that  was  with  the  Bishop  ? '  She  refused  at  first ;  but  he 
promising  upon  his  word  of  honor  to  warrant  her  at  all 
hands,  and  that  she  should  not  be  sent  to  America,  she 
says,  '  My  Lord,  it  was  the  meikle  black  devil ! ' ' 

This  is  in  reality  a  mild  specimen  of  Wodrow  ;  but  it 
may  suffice  to  show  the  mental  constitution  of  the  man. 
Against  his  fairness  I  shall  make  no  charge,  though  Mr. 
Kirkpatrick  Sharpe,  in  his  notes  appended  to  Kirkton's 
History,  has,  I  think,  incontestably  shown,  from  Wodrow's 
existing  manuscripts,  that  he  purposely  garbled,  or  at 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  2O9 

least  omitted  to  quote,  such  parts  of  the  correspondence  of 
the  Archbishop  of  St.  Andrews  as  would  have  effectually 
refuted  some  of  the  calumnies  then  current  against  that 
unfortunate  prelate.  At  present,  I  merely  look  to  Wodrow 
as  Mr.  Macaulay's  informant ;  and  I  find,  on  referring  to 
the  History,  that  the  following  passage  is  founded  on. 
"  Dreadful,"  says  Wodrow,  "  were  the  acts  of  wickedness 
done  by  the  soldiers  at  this  time,  and  Lagg  was  as  deep  as 
any.  They  used  to  take  to  themselves  in  their  cabals  the 
names  of  devils,  and  persons  they  supposed  to  be  in  hell, 
and  with  whips  to  lash  one  another  as  a  jest  upon  hell.  But 
I  shall  draw  a  veil  over  many  of  their  dreadful  impieties  I 
meet  with  ifi  papers  written  at  this  time  !  "  It  is  hardly 
worth  while  to  remark  that  this  passage  does  not,  in  the 
slightest  degree,  refer  to  the  troops  under  the  command  of 
Claverhouse.  but  to  the  militia  or  local  force  which  was 
raised  by  Grierson  of  Lagg.  This  story  is  specially  told  of 
Grierson  by  Howie  in  Biographia  Scoticana — a  work  to 
which  I  allude  simply  for  the  purpose  of  showing  against 
whom  the  legend  was  directed.  For  any  authentic  histor- 
ical information  we  shall  search  that  Apocrypha  in  vain. 
So  much  for  Mr.  Macaulay's  accuracy  in  applying  the  ma- 
terials of  his  veracious,  authority  ;  but  surely  the  absurdity 
of  such  stuff  renders  refutation  unnecessary  ?  Mr.  Macau- 
lay,  however,  goes  beyond  Wodrow,  even  in  minuteness, 
for  in  a  subsequent  paragraph  he  particularizes  the  very 
names  which  were  used,  as  those  of  Beelzebub  and  Apoll- 
yon !  He  might  with  equal  propriety  have  adopted 
the  phraseology  of  Ancient  Pistol,  and  gravely  informed  us 
that  the  Scottish  mode  of  military  accost  was,  "  How  now, 
Mephostophilus  ?  " 

We  next  arrive  ac  the  story  of  John  Brown,  which  I  am 
particularly  anxious  to  expiscate.  This  tale  is  usually 
brought  forward  as  the  crowning  instance  of  the  cruelty  of 


210  APPENDIX. 

Claverhouse ;  it  has  repeatedly  formed  the  subject  of  ro 
mance  and  illustration  ;  and  authors  of.  no  mean  power* 
have  vied  with  each  other  in  heightening  the  horror  of  its 
details.  Some  of  the  grosser  fables  regarding  that  disturb- 
ed period  have  lost  their  hold  of  the  popular  belief — for 
exaggeration  may  sometimes  be  carried  so  far  as  entire- 
ly to  neutralize  its  purpose.  But  the  Priestfield  tragedy  is 
still  an  article  of  the  peasant's  creed  ;  and,  as  it  has  hith- 
erto been  allowed  to  pass  without  examination,  it  has  fur- 
nished an  overwhelming  reply  to  those  who  deny  the  au- 
thenticity of  the  mass  of  Covenanting  tradition.  I  am  not 
ashamed  to  own  that  I  have  a  deep  regard  for  the  memory 
of  Lord  Dundee — a  regard  founded  on  the  n\m  belief  in 
his  public  and  private  virtues,  his  high  and  chivalrous 
honor,  and  his  unshaken  loyalty  to  his  sovereign.  But 
those  feelings,  however  strong,  would  never  lead  me  to 
vindicate  an  action  of  wanton  and  barbarous  cruelty,  or 
even  attempt  to  lessen  the  stigma  by  a  frivolous  or  dishon- 
est excuse.  No  cause  was  ever  effectually  served  by  mean 
evasion,  any  more  than  it  can  be  promoted  by  unblushing 
exaggeration  or  by  gross  perversion  of  facts.  The  charge 
has  been  distinctly  mad.e,  and  I  now  propose  to  examine 
the  authority  upon  which  it  is  founded,  as  gravely  and  mi- 
nutely as  though  it  concerned  the  character  of  the  living, 
and  not  merely  the  memory  of  the  dead.  Mr.  Macaulay 
shall  speak  for  himself : — 

"  John  Brown,  a  poor  carrier  of  Lanarkshire,  was,  for 
his  singular  piety,  commonly  called  the  Christian  Carrier. 
Many  years  later,  when  Scotland  enjoyed  rest,  prosperity, 
and  religious  freedom,  old  men,  who  remembered  the  evil 
days,  described  him  as  one  versed  in  divine  things,  blame- 
less in  life,  and  so  peaceable  that  the  tyrants  could  find  no 
offence  in  him,  except  that  he  absented  himself  from  the 
public  worship  of  the  Episcopalians.  On  the  first  of  May 
he  was  cutting  turf,  when  he  was  seized  by  Claverhouse's 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  211 

dragoons,  rapidly  examined,  convicted  of  non-conformity 
and- sentenced  to  death.  It  is  said  that  even  among  the 
soldiers  it  was  not  easy  to  find  an  executioner,  for  the  wife 
of  the  poor  man  was  present.  She  led  one  little  child  by 
the  hand  ;  it  was  easy  to  see  that  she  was  about  to  give  birth 
to  another  ;  and  even  those  wild  and  hard-hearted  men,  who 
nick-named  one  another  Beelzebub  and  Apollyon,  shrank 
from  the  great  wickedness  of  butchering  her  husband  be- 
fore her  face.  The  prisoner,  meanwhile,  raised  above  him- 
self by  the  near  prospect  of  eternity,  prayed  loudly  and  fer- 
vently as  one  inspired,  till  Claverhouse,  in  a  fury,  shot 
him  dead.  It  was  reported  by  credible  witnesses,  that 
the  widow  cried  out  in  her  agony — 'Well,  sir,  well  ;  the 
day  of  reckoning  will  come  ; '  and  that  the  murderer  replied 
— '  To  man  I  can  answer  for  what  I  have  done  ;  and  as  for 
God,  I  will  take  Him  into  my  own  hand.'  Yet  it  was 
rumored  that  even  on  his  seared  conscience  and  adaman- 
tine heart  the  dying  ejaculations  of  his  victim  made  an  im- 
pression that  never  was  effaced." 

Such  is  Mr.  Macaulay's  statement — well-written,  simple, 
and  affecting.  Wodrow  is  the  sole  authority  upon  which 
he  founds  his  narrative,  and  it  is  fair  to  say  that  he  has 
deviated  but  slightly  from  that  chronicle  except  in  one  ma- 
terial point.  Wodrow  does  not  profess  to  specify  upon  what 
charge  Brown  was  examined  and  condemned.  When  Mr. 
Macaulay  says  that  he  was  "  convicted  of  non-conformity," 
he  speaks  without  any  text ;  and  I  shall  presently  have 
occasion  to  show  that  his  assumption  is  radically  wrong. 
But,  as  he  substantially  adopts  the  tale  of  Wodrow,  it  is 
necessary  to  go  back  to  that  writer's  sources  of  information. 
The  execution  of  John  Brown  is  said  to  have  taken 
place  on  the  ist  May,  1685.  The  revolution  occurred  in 
1688  ;  and  Lord  Dundee  fell  at  Killiecrankie  on  the  2;th 
July,  1689.  Wodrow's  History  was  first  published  in  1721, 
exactly  thirty-six  years  after  the  alleged  murder. 


212  APPENDIX. 

These  dates  are  of  the  utmost  importance  in  considering 
a  matter  of  this  kind.  The  Episcopalian  party,  which  adhered 
to  the  cause  of  King  James,  was  driven  from  power  at  the 
Revolution,  and  the  Episcopal  Church  proscribed.  No 
mercy  was  shown  to  opponents  in  the  literary  war  which 
followed  :  every  species  of  invective  and  vituperation  was 
lavished  upon  the  supporters  of  the  fallen  dynasty.  Yet, 
for  thirty-three  years  after  the  Revolution,  the  details  of  this 
atrocious  murder  were  never  revealed  to  the  public  !  Nowhere 
in  print  or  pamphlet,  memoir,  history,  or  declaration, 
published  previously  to  Wodrow,  does  even  the  name  of 
John  Brown  occur,  save  once,  in  the  Cloud  of  Witnesses — 
a  work  which  appeared  in  1714 ;  and  in  that  work  no  details 
are  given,  the  narrative  being  comprehended  in  a  couple 
of  lines.  I  have  searched  for  it  amidst  all  the  records  of 
the  so-called  martyrology,  but  cannot  find  a  trace  of  it 
elsewhere,  until  the  Reverend  Robert  Wodrow  thought  fit 
to  place  the  tale,  with  all  its  circumstantiality,  in  his  History 
How,  then,  came  Wodrow  to  know  anything  about  the 
murder  of  John  Erown  ?  He  could  have  had  no  personal 
knowledge  or  recollection  of  the  circumstance,  for  he  was 
not  quite  six  years  of  age  at  the  time  when  it  is  said  to 
have  occurred.  He  has  not  offered  one  scrap  of  evidence 
in  support  of  his  allegation,  and  merely  leaves  it  to  be  in- 
ferred that  he  had  derived  the  story  from  that  most  un- 
certain of  all  sources,  tradition.  Even  at  the  hands  of  the 
most  honest,  cautious,  and  scrupulous  chronicler,  we  should 
hesitate  to  receive  a  tale  of  this  kind  ;  but  from  Wodrow,  who 
is  certainly  entitled  to  claim  none  of  the  above  adjectives 
as  applicable  to  himself,  who  will  take  it?  No  one,  I 
should  hope,  whose  prejudice  is  not  so  strong  as  to  lead 
him  to  disregard  the  most  ordinary  verification  of  evidence. 
Claverhouse  had  enemies  enough  to  insure  the  circulation 
of  such  a  damning  tale,  supposing  it  to  have  been  true, 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  213 

Long  before  he  had  lain  for  two-and-thirty  years  in  his 
grave.  He  was  not  without  eulogists,  whose  tribute  to  his 
memory  was  as  gall  and  wormwood  to  their  opponents,  and 
in  whose  teeth,  most  assuredly,  the  details  of  such  a  das- 
tardly and  unprovoked  murder  would  have  been  cast.  Yet 
no  man  charged  him  with  it.  More  than  a  generation 
passed  away — the  two  Kingdoms  had  been  united,  and 
Mar's  insurrection  quelled — before  the  miracle-mongering 
minister  of  Eastwood  ventured,  upon  no  documentary 
authority  at  all,  to  concoct  and  publish  the  story  which  Mr. 
Macaulay  has  adopted  without  a  scruple. 

After  what  I  have  said,  it  may  fairly  be  asked,  whether 
the  whole  of  this  story  should  be  considered  a  mere  myth 
or  fable  hatched  from  the  brain,  or  palmed  upon  the  easy 
credulity  of  Robert  Wodrow,  or  whether  there  are  any 
grounds  for  believing  that  it  is  at  least  founded  upon  fact  ? 
To  this  I  should  reply,  that,  from  other  testimony,  the  charac- 
ter and  complexion  of  which  I  shall  immediately  analyze,  it 
appears  to  be  true  that  John  Brown  of  Priestfield,  or  Priest- 
hill,  did  actually  suffer  by  military  execution,  but  that  the 
same  testimony  utterly  contradicts  Wodrow,  and  hisfollower, 
Mr.  Macaulay,  in  ever}'-  important  particular  relative  to  the 
details.  Mr.  Macaulay  may  not  have  known  that  such  testi- 
mony ever  existed,  for  even  the  most  painstaking  historian 
is  sure  to  pass  over  some  material  in  so  wide  a  field  ; 
nevertheless,  since  the  point  has  been  mooted,  it  may  be  a 
satisfaction  to  him  to  learn  that  his  version  of  the  story  has 
long  ago  been  repudiated  in  essentialibus  by  the  most  popular 
work  that  ever  emanated  from  the  Covenanting  printing- 
press. 

Patrick  Walker,  packman  and  publisher  at  the  Eristo 
Port  of  Edinburgh,  was  concerned  at  a  very  early  age  in 
the  Scottish  troubles.  In  1682,  he  and  two  other  Cove- 
nanters were  present  at  the  death  of  one  Francis  Gordon,  a 


214  APPENDIX. 

volunteer  in  the  Earl  of  Airlie's  troop,  who,  it  seems,  was 
shot  through  the  head.  Walker,  in  his  own  account  of 
this  exploit,  first  published  in  1727,  cautiously  abstains 
from  indicating  the  exact  perpetrator  of  the  deed,  but 
leaves  the  glory  thereof  to  be  shared  among  the  triumvirate. 
The  sum  of  his  confession  amounts  simply  to  this — that 
he,  Gordon,  "  got  a  shot  in  his  head  out  of  a  pocket- 
pistol,  rather  fit  for  diverting  a  boy,  than  killing  such  a 
furious,  mad,  brisk  man  ;  which,  notwithstanding,  killed 
him  dead."  He  was,  moreover,  says  Walker,  "  seeking 
his  own  death,  and  got  it."  For  this  affair  Walker  was 
imprisoned,  and  sentenced  to  transportation,  but  made  his 
escape,  and,  after  various  vicissitudes,  set  himself  down 
in  his  old  age  to  compile  the  Memoirs '  of  the  Cove- 
nanters. The  first  of  these  tracts  did  not  appear  until  after 
Wodrow's  History  was  published,  and  intense  is  the  con- 
tempt expressed  by  the  persecuted  packman  for  the  slip- 
slop of  the  fair-weather  minister,  whom  he  accuses  of 
positive  dishonesty.  "  I  wish  him,"  says  Walker  in  his 
Vindication  of  Cameron,  "  repentance  and  forgiveness  for 
what  unaccountable  wrongs  he  has  done  by  his  pen  to 
the  Testimony,  and  to  the  names  of  Christ's  slain  witnesses 
for  the  same.  For  myself  I  am  easy  ;  my  tongue  is  yet  in 
my  head  and  my  pen  in  my  hand ;  and  what  I  have  to  say 
upon  that  head  for  myself,  and  those  with  me,  will  run 
faster  and  further  than  he  has  feet  to  go.  I  am  reflected 
upon  for  my  not  giving  Mr.  Wodrow  better  information. 
Answer. — Before  his  History  came  out,  when  I  heard  of 
his  manuscripts  going  from  hand  to  hand  among  the  Long- 
heads (I  knew  it  would  be  patched  up  according  to  the 
backsliding  spirit  of  the  day),  I  desired  the  Rev.  Mr. 
James  Webster  to  give  me  account  when  he  came  to  his 
house,  that  I  might  have  a  short  conversation  with  him. 
Mrs.  Webster  told  him  my  desire.  He  answered,  he  de- 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  215 

pended  on  the  records  of  that  time."  In  the  same  work 
he  characterizes  Wodrow's  statement  as  "  lies  and  ground- 
less stories ; "  and,  moreover,  piously  expresses  a  wish 
"  that  Mr.  Wodrow's  well-wishers  would  pray  for  him,  that 
he  may  come  to  himself  and  be  of  a  right  mind,  who  has 
been  so  lavish  of  his  misrepresentations  and  groundless 
reflections."  Such  is  Walker's  opinion  of  the  authenticity 
of  Wodrow's  History,  though  his  remarks  are  of  course 
principally  directed  to  misrepresentations  of  the  champions 
of  the  Covenant.  But  they  are  useful  as  showing  his  im- 
pression of  the  intrinsic  value  of  the  work. 

Walker's  best  and  earliest  tract  is  the  Life  of  Peden.  This 
originally  appeared  in  1724,  and  is  still  widely  circulated 
among  the  peasantry  of  Scotland.  It  is  a  strange  mixture 
of  earnestness  and  superstition ;  sometimes  rugged  and 
even  coarse  in  its  style,  and  yet  at  times  rising  to  a  point 
of  real  though  homely  pathos.  Peden,  the  subject  of  the 
memoir,  was  an  intercommuned  minister,  whom  the  Cove- 
nanters asserted  to  have  been  endowed  with  miraculous 
prophetical  powers.  He  was  concerned  in  the  insurrection 
of  Pentland,  and  sentenced  to  banishment,  but  liberated 
by  the  leniency  of  the  Government  ;  notwithstanding 
which,  he  relapsed  into  his  old  courses,  became  the  active 
agent  of  rebellion,  and  so  notorious  that  he  was  expressly 
marked  for  capture.  Of  his  frequent  interviews  with  the 
devil,  his  gifts  of  second-sight  and  divination,  and  his  pow- 
er of  casting  out  unclean  spirits,  I  shall  say  nothing  here. 
Walker  faithfully  records  at  least  a  hundred  such  instances, 
which  are  sufficient  to  entitle  Peden  to  take  rank  beside 
Apollonius  of  Tyana.  He  appears,  however,  in  actual 
flesh  and  blood  connected  with  the  tragedy  of  John 
Brown. 

Walker's  narrative  commences  thus  : — "  In  the  beginning 
of  May,  1685,  he  (Peden)  came  to  the  house  of  John  Brown 


216  APPENDIX. 

and  Isobel  Weir,  whom  he  had  married  before  he  last  went 
to  Ireland,  where  he  stayed  all  night ;  and  in  the  morning, 
when  he  took  his  farewell,  he  came  out  at  the  door,  say- 
ing to  himself,  '  Poor  woman,  a  fearful  morning,  '  twice 
over — '  a  dark  misty  morning  ! '  The  next  morning,  be- 
tween five  and  six  hours,  the  said  John  Brown,  having 
performed  the  worship  of  God  in  his  family,  was  going 
with  a  spade  in  his  hand  to  make  ready  some  peat  ground, 
the  mist  being  very  dark,  knew  not  until  bloody  cruel 
Claverhouse  compassed  him  with  three  troops  of  horses, 
brought  him  to  his  house,  and  there  examined  him."  Walk- 
er, like  Wodrow,  is  silent  as  to  the  nature  of  the  charge. 
Then  comes  the  sentence — "  his  wife  standing  by  with  her 
child  in  her  arms,  that  she  had  brought  forth  to  him,  and 
another  child  of  his  first  wife's  ;  "  and  the  execution  is  thus 
narrated — ''  Claverhouse  ordered  six  soldiers  to  shoot  him  ; 
the  most  part  of  the  bullets  came  upon  his  head,  which 
scattered  his  brains  upon  the  ground." 

Such  is  Walkei's  account  of  the  matter,  forty  years  hav- 
ing in  the  mean  time  intervened  ;  and  whether  strictly  cor- 
rect or  no,  it  entirely  alters  the  complexion  of  the  case  as 
stated  by  Mr.  Macaulay.  Instead  of  John  Brown  being 
one  '*  in  whom  the  tyrants  could  find  no  offence  except 
that  he  absented  himself  from  the  public  worship  of  the 
Episcopalians,"  we  find  him  in  intercourse  with  a  man  who, 
whatever  might  be  his  spiritual  gifts,  was  a  notorious  out- 
law and  a  rebel ;  the  whole  romance  about  the  reluctance 
of  the  soldiers  vanishes ;  the  "wild  and  hard-hearted  men  " 
are  at  once  amenable  to  the  authority  of  their  commanding 
officer ;  and  the  alleged  murder  dwindles  into  a  case  of 
military  execution. 

Of  the  two  histories,  that  of  Walker  is  unquestionably 
most  likely  to  resemble  the  truth.  He  professes  to  have 
the  details  from  the  wife  of  Brown,  whereas  Wodrow  gives 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  217 

us  no  manner  of  authority  at  all.  There  are,  however, 
suspicious  circumstances  even  in  Walker's  narrative,  which 
might  be  noticed.  For  example,  in  the  original  edition  of 
his  pamphlet,  he  states  that  the  first  person  who  came  to 
Mrs.  Brown,  while  she  was  watching  by  her  husband's  body, 
was  "  that  old  singular  Christian  woman  in  the  Cummer- 
head,  named  Elizabeth  Menzies,  three  miles  distant ;  "  but 
in  the  third  edition,  this  matron,  retaining  her  residence 
and  encomium,  is  transmuted  into  "Jean  Brown."  Surely 
these  two  cannot  signify  one  and  the  same  person,  and  we 
are  therefore  left  in  doubt  which  particular  female  was  the 
witness.  But  it  is  not  worth  while  going  into  minute  criti- 
cism. Walker,  who  was  a  far  more  determined  Covenan- 
ter than  Wodrow,  was  not  likely  to  have  understated  the 
circumstances,  neither  does  he  profess  to  know  upon  what 
charge  Brown  was  examined.  I  think,  however,  I  can 
throw  some  light  upon  this  person's  political  delinquencies : 
and,  strangely  enough,  my  authority  is  derived  from  an 
official  document  which  will  be  found  in  the  Appendix  to 
Wodrow. 

"  John  Brown  of  Priestfield,  in  the  parish  of  Muirkirk,"  * 
figures  in  the  list  of  fugitives  appended  to  the  Royal 
Proclamation  of  5th  May,  1684.  The  list  is  of  those  who 
had  been  regularly  cited  as  rebels  in  arms,  or  resetters  of 
rebels,  but  who  had  failed  to  appear.  John  Brown,  there- 
fore, had  been  outlawed  a  year  before  his  death,  and  cer- 
tainly for  a  very  different  offence  than  that  of  "  absenting 
himself  from  the  public  worship  of  the  Episcopalians." 

*  In  order  that  there  may  be  no  cavilling  about  the  identity  of  the  name 
or  designation  (for  the  place  of  Brown's  residence  has  been  variously 
printed  as  "  Priestfield,  "  "  Priesthill, "  and  "  the  Preshill  "  ),  I  subjoin 
the  exact  words  of  Wodrow,  in  his  account  of  the  execution.  "  I  may 
well  begin  with  the  horrid  murder  of  that  excellent  person,  John 
Brown  of  Priesifield,  in  the  parish  of  Muirkirk  by  Claverhouse,  the 
first  of  this  month,  " 


ti8  APPENDIX. 

Undoubtedly  it  was  considered;  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  an 
offence  to  attend  armed  conventicles,  where  fanatical  and 
intercommuned  preachers  wrested  texts  from  Scripture  into 
encomiums  on  sedition,  treason,  and  murder :  that,  how- 
ever, was  a  very  different  thing  from  non-attendance  upon 
the  curate.  Wodrow  acknowledges  that  Brown  "  had  been 
a  long  time  upon  his  hiding  in  the  fields,  "  a  circumstance 
surely  irreconcilable  with  his  entire  consciousness  of  inno- 
cence, but  easily  explained  on  the  ground  that  he  was 
already  a  rebel  and  an  outlaw.  To  say  that  he  was  tried 
and  sentenced  for  non-conformity  is  to  hazard  an  assertion 
not  only  without  foundation,  but  in  the  very  teeth  of  history. 
I  maintain — and  I  know  that  I  am  borne  out  by  incontro- 
vertible proof — that,  at  the  time  in  question,  there  was  no 
manner  of  persecution  exercised  in  Scotland  against  any 
body  of  men  whatever,  on  account  of  their  religious  tenets, 

Mr.  Macaulay,  whilst  dilating  upon  the  harsh  usage  of 
the  Covenanters,  never  once  affords  us  a  glimpse  of  the 
opposite  side  of  the  picture.  His  object  is  to  show  that 
James  VII.,  immediately  on  his  accession  to  the  throne, 
commenced  a  relentless  religious  persecution  ;  and  accord 
ingly,  he  ignores  the  position  of  affairs  in  Scotland  dur- 
ing the  last  six  months  of  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  I  have 
examined  very  minutely  the  original  records  of  the  Privy 
Council  preserved  in  the  public  archives  of  Edinburgh,  and 
these,  taken  in  connection  with  FountainhaU's  explanatory 
Diaries,  furnish  ample  proof  that  the  charges  brought 
against  King  James  are  without  foundation.  I  propose 
very  shortly  to  inquire  into  this  matter. 

Charles  II.  died  6th  February,  1685.  Let  us  see  what 
was  the  state  of  the  kingdom  towards  the  close  of  the  pre- 
ceding year. 

In  September,  1684,  the  southern  and  western  shires  were 
so  turbulent  that  the  Privy  Council  found  it  necessary  to 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  219 

issue  four  special  commissions  of  Justiciary  for  those  dis- 
tricts alone.  "  In  the  month  of  June  last/'  says  the  Royal 
Proclamation  of  22d  July,  "  about  two  hundred  armed 
rebels  have  presumed,  to  the  great  contempt  of  our  author- 
ity, to  march  openly  through  several  of  the  said  shires  for 
may  days  together,  threatening  the  orthodox  clergy  and 
murdering  our  soldiers  ;  and  have  at  last,  when  they  found 
it  convenient,  disappeared,  being  certainly  and  undeniably 
reset  by  the  inhabitants  of  those  shires,  without  sufficient 
diligence  done  by  the  sheriffs  and  inhabitants  of  the  said 
shires,  either  for  dissipating  them,  .or  for  discovering  their 
resetters,  and  bringing  them  to  justice."  How  far  those 
special  commissions  succeeded  in  repressing  crime  may  be 
judged  of  by  the  following  events : — 

'  2o>th  Nov.  1684. — The  news  came  this  morning  to  Edin- 
burgh that  some  of  the  desperate  phanatiques  had  last 
night  fallen  upon  two  of  the  Kings  Life-Guards,  viz., 
Thomas  Kennoway  and  Duncan  Stewart,  who  were  lying 
at  the  Swyn  Abbay,  beyond  Blackburn,  in  Linlithgowshire, 
and  murdered  them  most  barbarously.  This  was  to  ex- 
ecute what  they  had  threatened  in  their  declaration  of  war.  " 

"i2/7*  Dec.  1684. — News  came  to  the  Privy  Council 
that  the  wild  phanatiques  had  fallen  in  upon  one  Peirson, 
minister  at  Carsphairn  in  Galloway,  a  great  dilator  of  them, 
and  zealous  of  rebuking  them  in  his  Sermons,  and  killed 
him.  They  ridiculously  keep  mock  courts  of  justice,  and 
cite  any  they  judge  their  inveterate  enemies  to  them,  and 
read  probation,  and  condemn  them,  and  thereafter  murder 
them."* 

Some  of  the  murderers  of  Mr.  Peirson  were  afterwards 
taken  and  shot.  They  also  have  been  elevated  to  the  rank 
of  martyrs.  The  epitaph  of  one  of  them,  Robert  Mitchell, 

*  FOUNTAINHALL'S  Historical  Notes 


220  APPENDIX. 

is  printed  among  the  inscriptions  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
Cloud  of  Witnesses. 

On  the  28th  of  January  thereafter,  the  Privy  Council 
was  informed  that  Captain  Urquhart,  and  several  of  his 
men,  had  been  waylaid  and  murdered  in  Wigtownshire.* 

These  specimens  may  serve  to  show  the  temper  of  the 
Covenanters  about  the  close  of  1684.  Next,  as  to  the  al- 
leged fiery  persecutions  of  James,  "  which,"  says  Mr. 
Macaulay,  "waxed  hotter  than  ever  from  the  day  on  which 
he  became  sovereign."  That  day  was  the  6th  of  February, 
and  on  the  26th  of  the  same  month  he  issued  a  full  pardon 
and  indemnity  to  all  offenders  below  the  rank  of  heritors 
(with  the  exception  only  of  those  who  were  actually  guilty 
of  the  murders  of  Archbishop  Sharpe,  Mr  Pierson,  and 
two  others),  and  that  clogged  with  no  other  condition  than 
the  taking  of  the  oath  of  allegiance.  The  proclamation 
was  published  on  the  2cl  of  March,  and  on  the  i4th  the 
Privy  Council  ordered  all  prisoners  whatsoever  to  be  set 
at  liberty,  "  upon  their  adjuring  the  fanatical  declaration 
of*war,  and  likewise  solemnly  giving  their  oaths  never  to 
rise  against  his  Majesty  or  his  authority."  Surely  never 
yet  was  persecution  inaugurated  by  such  liberal  measures 
as  these !  It  is  right  to  observe,  that  the  reader  will  fail  to 
discover  the  smallest  mention  of  them  in  the  pages  of  Mr. 
Macaulay. 

In  less  than  ten  days  after  this  jail-delivery,  the  dis- 
turbances began  anew.  On  the  24th  of  March,  the  "  Lords 
of  his  Majesty's  Privy  Council  being  certainly  informed 
that  a  number  of  desperate  rebels  have  the  boldness  and 
confidence  openly  to  go  up  and  down  the  shire  of  Ayr,  and 
other  adjacent  shires  and  places,  and  to  enter  houses,  take 
away  arms  and  provisions  at  their  pleasure,  without  any 
notice  taken  of  them  either  by  the  heritors  or  commons,  to 

*  Records  of  the  Privy  Council  in  General  Record  Office,  Edinburgh. 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  221 

the  great  affront  of  his  Majesty's  authority,"  commissioned 
Colonel  JamesDouglas  to  proceed  to  the  disaffected  districts, 
with  full  powers  to  repress  the  disorders.  The  commission 
was  signed  or,  the  2;th  by  the  whole  members  of  the  Privy 
Council  who  were  present,  "  except  Claverhouse  " — a  re- 
markable exception,  specially  noted,  to  which  I  shall  pres- 
ently refer.  Of  the  same  date,  a  letter  from  the  Privy  Council 
was  forwarded  to  the  Earl  of  Dumfries,  sheriff  of  Ayr,  re- 
questing immediate  particulars,  as  it  appeared  that  his 
lordship's  house  had  been  one  of  those  which  \vere  ran- 
sacked. 

Douglas  seems  to  have  entered  into  his  functions  with 
zeal,  but  not  to  have  been  altogether  successful.  The  in- 
surrection continued  to  increase,  and  on  the  2ist  April, 
General-Lieutenant  Drummond,  Master-General  of  the 
Crdnance,  was  appointed  Commissioner  and  Justiciar  in 
the  southern  and  western  shires,  with  plenary  powers. 
The  Parliament  of  Scotland  did  not  meet  until  two  days 
afterwards. 

These  insurrections  had  their  origin  in  a  deeper  cause 
than  religious  dissent  or  local  turbulence.  Mr.  Macaulay, 
who  confidently  says  that  "there  was  no  insurrection  in 
any  part  of  our  island  on  the  ist  May,"  probably  consider- 
ing the  Ayrshire  rising  as  a  mere  sportive  demonstration, 
has  a  note  in  refutation  of  the  editor  of  the  Oxford  edition  of 
Burnet.  who  supposes  that  John  Brown  might  have  been 
mixed  up  with  the  designs  of  Argyle.  He  says  that  Ar- 
gyle  was  at  that  date,  in  Holland.  True  ;  but  he  sailed  for 
Scotland  on  the  id,  and  the  Privy  Council  had  been  aware 
of  his  designs  as  early  as  the  2ist  April.  On  that 
day  they  ordered  1200  Highlanders  to  be  sent  into  the  wes- 
tern shires,  "  upon  rumors  of  fears  of  Argyle's  landing  ;  " 
and  Drummond,  in  his  commission,  was  empowered  to 
take  those  Highlanders  under  his  command.  On  the  28tb 


222  APPENDIX. 

an  Act  was  framed  for  putting  the  whole  kingdom  in  a 
posture  of  defence,  expressly  on  account  of  Argyle  ;  and 
on  the  last  of  that:  month  John  Campbell  of  Succo  was  ar- 
rested for  treasonable  correspondence  with  that  infatuated 
nobleman.  Nor  can  there  be  a  shadow  of  a  doubt  that 
the  disturbances  in  the  west  were  connected  with  the  medi- 
tated landing. 

Is,  then,  the  conjecture  of  the  editor  of  Burnet  so  ex- 
ceedingly extravagant  ?  I  do  not  think  so.  How  came 
John  Brown,  as  Wodrow  says,  to  have  been  "  a  long  time 
upon  his  hiding  in  the  fields  ?  "  He  was  free  by  the  in- 
demnity unless  indeed  he  had  refused  the  oath  of  allegiance, 
or  committed  some  subsequent  act  which  put  him  beyond 
the  pale  of  the  law.  In  the  report  of  a  committee  of  the 
Privy  Council,  made  on  the  loth  of  March,  I  find  the  fol- 
lowing entry: — "  John  Brown,  an  old  man,  in  the  fugitive 
roll,  refuses  the  allegiance,  and  so  ought  not  to  have  the 
benefit  of  the  indemnity."  If  this  be  the  same  person  with 
the  carrier  of  Priestneld,  he  was  at  that  time  a  prisoner, 
and  therefore  must  either  have  made  his  escape,  or,  having 
taken  the  oath,  subsequently  joined  the  rebels  ;  in  either 
of  which  cases  his  hiding  in  the  fields  is  intelligible  enough, 
and  so  also  is  his  summary  execution  when  arrested.  But 
in  no  way  can  it  be  shown  that  he  suffered  on  account  of  his 
religious  tenets  ;  and  it  is  very  well  worthy  of  observa- 
tion that  the  Act  against  Conventicles,  which  has  been  so 
much  abused,  was  not  passed  by  the  Scottish  Parliament 
u^til  several  days  after  the  date  in  question.  Let  the  can- 
did and  impartial  reader  compare  these  dates,  circum- 
stances and  evidences,  with  the  narrative  of  Mr.  Macaulay, 
and  I  have  little  fear  of  his  arriving  at  the  same  conclu- 
sions with  that  eloquent  historian. 

It  seems  to  me,  therefore,  quite   clear  that  John   Brown 
was  executed  as  a  rebel.     He  may  be  considered  a  martyr 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE. 


223 


in  the  same  sense  as  Hackstoim  of  Rathillet  and  Robert 
Mitchell,  who  had  imbrued  their  hands  in  the  blood  of  the 
Primate  of  St  Andrews  and  of  the  minister  of  Carsphairn, 
or  as  the  rebels  who  adhered  to  the  atrocious  Declaration 
of  Sanquhar ;  but  I  cannot  see  what  other  claim  he  has  to 
the  title.  He  was  fugitated  the  year  before  ;  he  had  either 
refused  or  had  forfeited  the  benefit  of  the  indemnity ;  he 
was  trafficking  with  a  notorious  outlaw  ;  and  he  is  admit- 
ted to  have  been  in  hiding  within  six  weeks  after  the  indem- 
nity was  proclaimed.  All  this,  at  least,  is  patent  and 
proven  ;  and  it  is  utterly  inconsistent  with  his  innocence, 
even  if  we  should  stretch  charity  so  far  as  to  suppose  that, 
during  those  six  weeks,  he  did  not  join  one  of  those  armed 
bands  of  rebels  who  were  then  perambulating  and  plundering 
the  country.  The  aggravations,  which  constitute  the  ro- 
mance of  the  story  have  been  already  disposed  of.  Patrick 
Walker,  the  stancher  Cameronian  of  the  two,  gives  Robert 
Wodrow  the  lie  direct. 

This  note  has  already  extended  to  such  a  length,  that  I 
am  really  unwilling  to  add  a  word  more  on  the  subject. 
But  the  duty  which  I  have  undertaken  compels  me  to  state 
my  belief  that  Grahame  of  Claverhouse  had  no  share  what- 
ever in  repressing  the  disturbances  previous  to  the  landing 
of  Argyle,  and  that  he  was  not  present  at  the  execution  of 
John  Brown.  Tradition  of  course  is  against  me  ;  but  when 
I  find  no  articulate  voice  uttered  by  tradition  until  after  the 
expiry  of  thirty  years,  I  am  not  disposed  to  give  much  weight 
to  it  as  an  accessory,  tar  less  to  accept  it  as  reasonable  evi- 
dence. My  reasons  are  as  follows  : — 

Claverhouse  was  superseded  in  his  military  command  by 
Colonel  James  Douglas,  brother  of  Queensberry,  who  was 
then  High  Treasurer.  The  district  assigned  to  Douglas 
was  that  of  Ayr,  the  shire  in  which  John  Brown,  resided  ; 
and  Claverhouse,  being  of  equal  military  rank,  did  not  serve 


224  APPENDIX. 

under  him,  as  is  apparent  from  the  records  of  the  Privy 
Council,  the  meetings  of  which  he  attended  daily  until  the 
month  of  April.  These  records  refute  many  of  the  scan- 
dalous tales  propagated  by  Crookshank  and  others,  who 
depict  Claverhouse  as  pursuing  Covenanters  in  Nithsdale, 
at  the  very  moment  when  he  was  performing  his  duties  as 
a  councillor  in  Edinburgh.  Fountainhall  tells  us  distinctly 
that  he  was  superseded  out  of  spite  :  he  refused,  in  his 
character  of  Privy  Councillor,  to  sign  the  commission,  and 
in  April  he  was  actually  omitted  from  the  new  list  of  coun- 
cillors. The  following  is  Fountainhall's  entry  on  that  oc- 
casion : — "  gth  April,  1685. — A  Privy  Council  is  held  where 
a  new  commission  is  produced,  omitting  none  of  the  former 
Privy  Councillors  but  only  Colonel  Grahame  of  Claver- 
house, because  of  the  discords  we  have  formerly  marked 
between  him  and  the  High  Treasurer  and  his  brother.  The 
pretence  was,  that,  being  married  in  my  Lord  Dundonald's 
phanatique  family,  it  was  not  safe  to  commit  the  King's 
secrefs  to  him."  The  spite  went  even  further  ;  for  a  few 
days  afterwards  an  Act  of  Council  was  passed,  says  Foun- 
tainhall, <v  in  odium  of  Claverhouse  ;  "  and  I  cannot  find,  in 
the  records  of  that  year,  the  slightest  trace  of  his  having 
been  reinstated  in  command.  It  is  possible,  however,  that 
he  might  have,  been  called  out  to  serve  under  General  Drum- 
mond,  but  not  surely  upon  such  duty  as  this.  John  Brown 
must  have  been  a  very  desperate  rebel  indeed,  if  a  Colonel 
of  the  Guards,  who  moreover  had  been  a  Privy  Councillor, 
and  three  troops  of  horse  were  despatched  specially  to 
arrest  him !  If  he  was  no  rebel  at  all,  but  merely  a  non- 
conformist, the  thing  becomes  absolutely  incredible  ;  for, 
setting  aside  the  indemnity,  can  any  one  believe  that,  in 
the  face  of  Argyle's  meditated  landing,  and  in  the  midst  of 
actual  insurrection,  the  troops  were  leisurely  employed  in 
ferreting  out  and  shooting  such  of  the  peasantry  as  did  not 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  225 

worship  with  the  curates  ?  But  vulgar  credulity  owns  no 
limits,  and  the  lapse  of  thirty  years  is  sufficient  to  account 
for  the  currency  of  the  grossest  fable. 

In  estimating  the  character  of  the  dead,  some  weight 
surely  ought  to  be  given  to  the  opinions  of  contemporaries. 
I  shall  cite  merely  one — that  of  Dr.  Monro,  the  Principal 
of  the  University  of  Edinburgh.  At  the  inquiry  instituted 
before  the  visitors  in  1690,  it  was  alleged,  as  a  special  ar- 
ticle of  dittay  against  the  Reverend  Principal,  that  he  had 
rejoiced  at  the  victory  of  Lord  Dundee.  After  calling  upon 
his  accuser  for  proofs,  the  Doctor  thus  boldly  expressed 
himself  : — "  The  libeller  does  not  think  I  rejoiced  at  the 
fall  of  my  Lord  Dundee  !  I  assure  him  of  the  contrary  ;  for 
no  gentleman,  soldier,  scholar,  or  civilized  citizen,  will  find 
fault  with  me  for  this.  I  had  an  extraordinary  value  for 
him  ;  and  such  of  his  enemies  as  retain  any  generosity  will 
acknowledge  he  deserved  it.  "*  But  what  generosity,  or- 
even  what  regard  for  truth,  could  be  expected  from  crea- 
tures of  the  stamp  of  Wodrow  ! 

Mr.  Macaulay  is  peculiarly  unfortunate  on  the  subject  of 
Claverhouse.  I  say  nothing  of  omissions,  though  I  must 
take  the  liberty,  with  all  deference,  of  remarking  that  it  does 
appear  somewhat  strange  to  find  in  a  history,  which  re- 
counts with  such  minute  satisfaction  every  instance  of  deser- 
tion from  the  losing  side,  no  notice  taken  of  the  loyalty  of 
of  those  who  remained  steadfast  to  their  oath  and  their 
allegiance.  In  an  impartial  narrative  one  might  expect  to 
see  recorded  the  gallant  advice  and  chivalrous  offer  made 
by  Lord  Dundee  to  his  sovereign,  before  the  latter  quitted 
his  dominions  ;  for  surely  devotion  to  a  losing  cause  is 
Worthy  pf  honor  and  respect,  and  should  receive  it  from  a 

*  Presbyterian  Inquisition  :  as  it  was  lately  practised  against  the  Pro- 
fessors of  the  College  of  Edinburgh.  Aug.  and  Sept.  1690.  Licensed  Nov. 
12,  1691.  London. 


226  APPENDIX. 

generous  antagonist.  But  historians  undoubtedly  have  the 
privilege  of  omitting  what  they  please,  and,  in  this  instance, 
it  is  sufficient  to  note  that  the  privilege  has  been  exercised. 
But  Mr.  Macaulay  has  thought  fit  to  introduce  Claver- 
house  once  more  as  an  actor  in  an  historical  scene,  upon 
which  he  has  obviously  bestowed  much  pains  and  con- 
sideration. In  his  account  of  the  capture  and  execution 
of  Argyle,  he  says  : — "  The  victorious  party  had  not  for- 
gotten that,  thirty-five  years  before  this  time,  the  father  of 
Argyle  had  been  at  the  head  of  the  faction  which  put  Mon- 
trose  to  death.  Before  that  event,  the  houses  of  Graham 
and  Campbell  had  borne  no  love  to  each  other,  and  they 
had  ever  since  been  at  deadly  feud.  Care  was  taken  that 
the  prisoner  should  pass  through  the  same  gate  and  the 
same  streets  through  which  Montrose  had  been  led  to  the 
the  same  doom.  The  troops  who  attended  the  procession  were 
put  wider  the  command  of  Claverhouse^  the  fiercest  and  stern- 
est of  the  race  of  Graham. "  Now,  although  the  father 
of  Argyle  had  not  only  been  the  head  of  the  faction  which 
put  Montrose  to  death,  but  had,  along  with  his  son,  the  in- 
conceivable meanness  to  be  present  at  and  exult  over  the 
indignities  offered  to  that  illustrious  nobleman,  it  is  not 
true  that  any  chief  of  the  gallant  house  of  Grahame  stooped 
to  imitate  such  a  base  example.  Claverhouse  was  not 
there.  The  melodramatic  effect  of  the  narrative  may  suf- 
fer in  consequence,  but  at  present  we  are  dealing  w'th  his- 
tory, not  romance.  The  impression  which  every  one  must 
receive  from  the  foregoing  passage  is,  that  Claverhouse  was 
expressly  selected  for  the  duty,  in  order  to  give  a  passing 
triumph,  not  only  to  a  political  cause,  but  also  to  a  family 
feud.  Knowing  well  how  eagerly  former  Covenanting 
writers  have  fastened  upon  any  pretext  for  casting  a  stain 
upon  the  memory  of  Claverhouse,  it  was  with  considerable 
astonishment  that  I  found  this  statement  brought  forward 


THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  227 

for  the  first  time  by  Mr.  Macaulay.  His  mistake,  in  this 
instance,  is  precisely  of  a  piece  with  the  others.  Wodrow 
quotes,  accurately  enough,  the  substance  of  the  order  given 
for  bringing  Argyle  into  Edinburgh — an  order  which  was 
modified  in  its  execution.  That  order  bears  that  he  shall 
be  "carried  up  the  street  bareheaded,  with  his  hands  tied 
behind  his  back,  in  the  midst  of  Captain  Graham's  guards."- 
This  is  enough  for  Mr.  Macaulay,  who  forthwith  pounces 
upon  the  name,  and,  without  stopping  to  consider  who  Cap- 
tain Graham  was,  at  once  degrades  Claverhouse  from  his 
rank  and  identifies  him  with  the  officer  of  the  guard  !  Hence 
the  rhetorical  flourish  about  the  houses  of  Graham  and 
Campbell.  The  real  fact  is,  that  the  officer  in  question  was 
Patrick  Graham,  a  younger  son  of  Inchbraikie,  Captain  of 
the  Town-Guard  of  Edinburgh,  whose  duty  it  was,  irre- 
spective of  politics  orfamily  feuds,  to  be  present  at  all  pub^ 
lie  processions  within  the  boundaries  of  the  city.  His  name 
is  given  at  full  length  in  the  original  order  ;  but  Mr;  Macau- 
lay,  having  previously  substituted  James  for  John,  now  sub- 
stitutes John  for  Patrick,  and  consequently  is  enabled  to 
invest  the  scene  with  an  additional,  though  spurious,  hue 
of  inte:est.  Besides  this,  I  am  afraid  that  Mr.  Macaulay's 
account  of  the  procession  must  be  considered  as  chiefly 
drawn  from  his  own  imagination.  Argyle  was  by  no  means 
exposed  to  the  same  indignities  which  had  been  heaped 
upon  Montrose,  neither  was  his  doom  the  same.  Fountain- 
hall,  in  his  Historical  Observes,  a  work  of  great  interest,  ex- 
pressly tells  us  that  although  it  was  mentioned  that,  "when 
the  Marquis  of  Montrose  was  brought  up  prisoner  from 
the  Watergate  in  a  cart,  this  Argyle  was  feeding  his  eyes 
with  the  sight  in  the  Lady  Murray's  balcony,  in  the  Can- 
ongate,  with  her  daughter,  his  lady,  to  whom  he  was  newly 
married,  and  that  he  was  seen  smiling  and  playing  with 
her  ; "  yet  that,  "  seeing  we  condemn  these  rebellious  tymes 


228  APPENDIX. 

for  their  rigor  our  great  men  (not  knowing  their  own  des- 
tinies) thought  it  no  fit  copy  to  imitate — so  that  all  that  was 
done  to  him  was,  that  he  was  met  at  the  Watergate  by  Cap- 
tain Graham's  Company  and  the  hangman,  who  tied  his 
hands  behind  his  back  ;  and  so,  the  hangman  going  before 
him,  he  came  up  on  his  feet  to  the  castle,  but  it  was  casten 
to  be  so  late  that  he  was  little  seen.  "  It  was  ten  o'clock  at 
night  before  he  arrived  at  the  Watergate,  so  that  any  at- 
tempt at  ignominious  parade  was  avoided. 

I  cannot  see  how  the  memory  of  Argyle  can  be  served 
by  such  exaggerations.  Whatever  may  have  been  his  pre- 
vious delinquencies, — and  they  were  neither  few  nor  trivial, 
— he  met  his  fate  like  a  brave  man,  nor  did  any  action  of 
his  life  become  him  so  much  as  its  close.  Claverhouse,  who 
would  joyfully 'have  encountered  him  in  the  field,  was  infi- 
nitely above  the  littleness  of  triumphing  over  his  political 
opponent.  The  debt  due  to  the  memory  of  the  great  Mon- 
trose  was  fully  discharged  when  his  loyalty  received  its 
posthumous  tribute,  and  the  remains  of  the  hero  were  de- 
posited by  his  assembled  kindred  in  the  tomb.  It  is 
a  pity  that  Mr.  Macaulay,  since  he  must  needs  take 
Wodrow  as  his  authority,  has  not  adhered  closely  to  his 
text.  In  matters  which  were  evidently  public,  and  there- 
fore open  to  common  contradiction,  Wodrow  seldom  ven- 
tures to  wander  far  astray  from  the  truth ;  it  is  in  the  alleys 
and  by-lanes  of  narrative  that  we  detect  him  at  his 
habitual  sin.  Mr.  Macaulay,  however,  does  not  always 
follow  Wodrow,  but  sometimes  misinterprets  Fountainhall. 
Thus,  in  his  account  of  the  riot  at  Edinburgh  on  3ist  Jan- 
uary, 1686,  he  somewhat  magniloquently  tells  us  that  "the 
troops  were  already  under  arms.  Conspicuous  among 
them  were  Claverhouse's  dragoons,  the  dread  and  abhor- 
rence of  Scotland."  His  sole  authority  for  saying  so  is  the 
tntry  in  FountainhalPs  diary  that  "  the  Counsell  calls  in 


•    THE  VISCOUNT  OF  DUNDEE.  229 

the  assistance  of  Grame's  company."  Not  a  dragoon  was 
there.  Patrick  Graham,  as  usual,  was  summoned  with  the 
Town-guard ;  but  that  body,  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Macaulay, 
multiplies  like  FalstafFs  famous  corps  in  buckram,  and  is 
ready  on  the  shortest  notice  to  figure  as  horse,  foot  or 
artUlery. 

I  trust  that,  in  the  foregoing  remarks,  I  shall  not  be  con- 
sidered as  having  transgressed  the  proper  bounds  of  cour- 
tesy. Mr.  Macaulay's  reputation  is  deservedly  so  high, 
that  every  statement  emanating  from  his  pen  is  liable  to 
the  minutest  scrutiny ;  and  I  will  fairly  confess  that  I  was 
not  sorry  to  find  the  scattered  charges  which,  from  time  to 
time,  have  been  brought  against  Lord  Dundee,  concentra- 
ted in  his  volumes,  since  an  accusation  from  so  power- 
ful a  quarter  must  necessarily  give  some  additional  interest 
to  the  defence,  however  feebly  executed.  It  is  from  no  de- 
sire for  controversy,  far  less  from  a  wish  to  run  counter  to 
popular  opinion,  that  I  have  approached  this  subject.  I  am 
fully  aware  of  the  weight  of  prejudice  against  which  I  have 
to  contend  ;  but  from  that  prejudice  I  appeal  to  the  truth 
as  I  gather  it  from  the  records  of  the  time.  Some  of  my 
critics,  for  whose  indulgence  otherwise  I  am  grateful,  have 
been  pleased  to  express  themselves  wrathfully  at  finding 
any  terms  of  eulogy  applied  in  the  text  to  an  individual  in 
the  belief  of  whose  misdeeds  they  have  been  hereditarily 
and  traditionally  trained.  If  my  belief  upon  such  points 
were  the  same  with  theirs,  they  should  have  had  no  cause  of 
complaint.  It  is  because  I  am  convinced,  after  a  most 
careful  examination  of  the  evidence — not  of  historians  only, 
but  of  such  as  is  afforded  by  the  materials  which  ought  to 
be  the  foundation  of  authentic  history — that  a  large  por- 
tion of  our  national  annals  has  been  most  unfairly  pervert- 
ed, and  that  party  strife  and  polemical  rancor  have  com- 
bined to  distort  facts  and  to  blacken  names  for  mere  tern- 


230  APPENDIX. 

porary  and  ephemeral  purposes  ; — it  is  for  these  reasons 
solely  that  I  have  ventured  to  go  back  into  the  disputed 
battle-fields  of  the  past.  I  have  taken  nothing  for  granted, 
but  have  given  an  authority  for  each  separate  allegation  ; 
and  if  those  authorities  should  happen  to  prove  hostile  to 
the  preconceived  impressions  of  any  one,  surely  I  am  not 
to  blame.  If  anything  I  have  said  can  be  proved  to  be 
wrong,  I  am  willing  to  admit  the  error,  but  not  otherwise. 
Meanwhile,  I  am  not  ashamed  of  having  attempted  to  de- 
fend the  memory  of  Lord  Dundee  against  unjust  accusa- 
tions, not  preferred  during  his  lifetime,  but  invented  at  a 
later  period  ;  for  I  can  see  no  generosity,  far  less  justice, 
in  the  conduct  of  those  who  are  obstinately  deaf  to  all  evi- 
dence in  favor  of  one  whom  they  have  been  previously 
taught  to  condemn,  and  who  seem  to  think  that  the  strength 
of  their  own  cause  depends  upon  the  amount  of  obloquy 
which  they  can  contrive  to  heap  upon  its  opponents. 


THE    END. 


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